Cooking Mama
by tamagopants
Summary: -Mama!Saïx- Chapter 9 - In which Mama unleashes the ultimate weapon: Daddy.
1. Hindsight is a Wonderful Thing

_Disclaimer: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_Warning: Rated T for language (thanks, Saïx)._

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**COOKING MAMA**

**1: Hindsight is a Wonderful Thing**

* * *

There are three ways to make me despair and want to jump off the highest tower of The Castle That Never Was.

First, you can harass me endlessly by referring to one of the following: mooning, 'that time of the month', werewolf, puppy, X Face, arse licker, MPD, OCD.

Second, you can wrongly credit my authority in the Organisation to sleeping with the boss.

Third, you can hand me said boss when he's turned into a four-year-old, and tell me to play noughts and crosses with him, while listening to him talk about his favourite colours and what he's going to draw tomorrow.

"Draw a circle on my forehead, won't you?"

"Fine."

Let me tell you how Xemnas and I fell from grace. It involves a naïve newcomer, an overly cheerful boss, a poisonous shake and a checked green and yellow apron.

-x-

Yesterday evening, I was making dinner, as usual. (Contrary to popular belief, food does not come out of thin air. It gets bought, prepared and served, all by me.) I was an hour behind my mental schedule and for the first time in a long while, I felt pressure. I had reports to check through and engross, nine members to feed, groceries to stock up on, a new member to integrate; and finally, a boss to make small talk with.

Xemnas has a habit of disturbing me at the most inconvenient of times, often for no reason at all – ergo the small talk. I think he is so used to delegating his work that he often forgets that just because he's free, it doesn't mean everyone else is.

Yesterday was no different. Right when I was getting dinner out of the oven, he remarked, "Is that a new cooker?"

I remember feeling my scar pulse and want to stretch. I was already in a bad mood that day, and did not appreciate being distracted during a delicate stage in food preparation. Besides, I was standing at an _oven_, not a cooker.

"Actually, this is a brand new kitchen altogether," I opted to reply. "Xigbar's model didn't come close to adequate, so I had it changed. I have made a note of this expenditure for our records. The sum is three hundred thousand and forty Munny…It's pasta bake today," I finished, sensing mild impatience.

"Pasta bake," he repeated. "A new endeavour, is it?"

"Yes Sir. Xaldin filed a complaint about the lack of variety in our castle's catering—"

Xemnas pulled his _I can't care less_ face. "Saïx, you will serve me a large portion of pasta bake tonight."

"Of course."

"And you will also provide me with today's engrossed report on Agrabah, preferably with Xigbar's comments."

I switched off the oven, pulling at my apron and busying myself to mask any frustration. Xemnas was oblivious – and still is – to the amount of effort required to pull up a Xigbar report.

Not that I was about to disappoint him. "Superior, the Agrabah report is already done. It's in your In Tray. However, I have a copy at hand if you urgently need—here." I moved my oven mitts aside and passed him the papers.

"And," continued Xemnas, "you will organise for our new member become familiar with the castle. Have you met him?"

"We've been introduced." I neglected to inform him that I had already started delegating work to Number Nine. I lined up nine plates in numerical order. A large helping for One, extra vegetables for Six, burnt pasta for Eight. "He told me you named him Demyx."

"Yes. I was feeling unimaginative. He's quite engaging, somewhat overzealous. I would actually like to go over various recruitment issues with you, about Demyx and also a reluctant Nobody in Twilight Town. Will you have an hour free tonight?" He didn't expect an answer; I didn't try to form one. "In summary, Demyx doesn't look very promising. You will see to that."

"Very well."

Xemnas seemed pleased at my response. Or maybe he was just hungry. After all, he was watching my every move as I served up. "You will obey every order I give you?"

"Within reason," I answered, balancing four plates in my arms.

"I see," said Xemnas, clearly not seeing.

"Number Seven, hello! Your grocery shopping is done." Demyx emerged from a portal with numerous shopping bags. "I bought everything you listed, with some bonus items I was drawn to."

"Delegating?" Xemnas said to me, incredulous.

"No, not quite," I lied. "I sent Demyx on a straightforward and hopefully inspiring mission, to prompt him into finding his element."

"It's funny you should mention that…I had an impulse to buy these…"

He began to unpack, and within moments, Xemnas and I discovered what our ninth member was keyed into.

"Fruit juice, sparkling water, revitalising shakes, a watering can, a _fish_," I began to list, moving each item along the kitchen surface. "And cress?"

"Watercress, actually," said Demyx. My scar twitched again. I did not just get corrected by a muppet of a mullet. "I'm tuned into water, in more ways than one you know—"

"Yes thank you," I cut in. "The reason why we place great stress on writing reports is because that way, we don't have to listen to people talk. Go and fetch the others; dinner is ready."

I went ignored as Demyx just realised his boss was standing three feet away from him. "Hello, Superior…!" A hasty mock bow, and then Number Nine was offering his selection of goods like a priest at a sacrificial ritual. "Erm…fish? Shake? Anything your greatness would like—?"

"_Go and fetch the others_!" I hissed, wondering if he had any sense of self-preservation. He somehow managed to thrust a revitalising shake into Xemnas' hand before I successfully chased him away. Xemnas turned the bottle over, studying the label and with a shrug, unscrewing the cap and drinking.

"So. Within reason," Xemnas said, staring at me and continuing our conversation as if there had been no interruption. (I should mention now that whenever Xemnas stares at me, he appears to study more than my face.) "What godly authority lay down that rule, Saïx?"

"That would be my dignity screaming for attention."

Xemnas watched as I set out nine lots of cutlery, enjoying my discomfort. "Very good," he said, before downing the rest of that blasted shake. "Oh, and Saïx," he added, not quite able to feign spontaneity. "Nice apron."

-x-

Xemnas in a horrendously good mood meant dinnertime was allowed to go informal. Demyx got to make a sappy speech about the honour of joining the Organisation and in return, Xemnas gave him a belated run-of-the-mill welcome, of which the only thing impressive about it was the length.

While we ate and talked, Zexion – our resident two-faced bastard – coerced Demyx into talking about what he could remember as a Somebody. We were all intrigued, to some extent. Demyx had come to us with a vivid range of emotions and as Xemnas rightly put it, a tendency to be overzealous; everyone was interested in how Demyx could accomplish such feats while knowing he was an empty shell and an echo of existence.

Denial was my answer to that, but with Axel at the table, my opinion went unheard.

Midnight came, and I was on my way to Xemnas' office, to discuss Demyx as ordered. I was prepared, ready to reel off a list of reasons why Demyx was a horrid inclusion to our group.

I never got to reel off that list, although later I would add to it, "Point 12: He bought revitalising shakes that turned four Organisation members, including you, into children."

When I knocked and entered his office, my Superior was sitting on his desk, doodling and humming. In my mental list of Top Ten Most Disturbing Things in the Castle, singing Xemnas is triumphed only by smiling Vexen.

I was unnerved as much as the constraint of being a Nobody would allow. Not only was he singing, Xemnas was three feet tall, boasting a pair of enormous eyes and drawing all over the Agrabah report I spent two hours on. His uniform, being form fitting, had shrunk to suit his tiny stature, and even with his hood up, I could spot clumps of messy silver hair.

"Don't look, Mama, I've almost finished."

I stared at him. He was talking to me, and I could hear him. But comprehend? Not yet. There was something very momentous about our initial meeting. It marked my first time in truly believing that yes, Nobodies could feel genuine horror if the situation called for it.

"Ready? You _have_ to be surprised, okay?"

My boss was pint sized. And he was _giggling_.

"Ta da!"

I knocked his arm aside and scrabbled for the telephone. It was here somewhere, under papers and reports and notebooks. Phone, phone, phone…

There was only one Nobody bar me who'd still be awake and working at midnight. Something latched onto my arm as I dialled. "Get off! Come on…pick up!"

"Mama, you didn't look properly at my drawing…!"

"Vexen!" I shouted, before he had the chance to speak. "What the fuck has happened to the Superior?!"

"Easy there, X Face," said someone who wasn't Vexen. "Don't swear in front of children. Vexen's currently busy."

"Xigbar! You knew? Get Vexen on the line n—you know what? Fuck it. I'm coming over. _Stop tugging!_" I snarled at Xemnas. He jumped and shrank back. He screwed up his face and bit his lip. I had never seen Xemnas look that way. It was, quite frankly, revolting.

"Saïx. Seriously, just cool down a little. If you lose your temper, he's going to cry. And believe you me, that's the last thing you want." Xigbar was laidback as usual, even having the time and nerve to let out a laugh. "Come down to Vexen's lab, that's where we've all congregated. Only guys missing are you two."

"You knew from the beginning that Xemnas…I don't know, de-aged?!"

"Knew? As if! I just listened to your screaming, looked over at kid Lexaeus here and put two and two together. All right, well, whenever you're ready, come downstairs. And go easy on Demyx, won't you?"

"I don't take orders from you," I answered, and slammed down the receiver. _Breathe, Saïx, breathe. No temper. _"Right. Let's go."

I gathered from my conversation with Xigbar that Lexaeus had also been turned little, and Demyx had something to do with it. I was also certain that Vexen was already on the case. This wasn't out of hand at all. I only needed to get Xemnas to the lab, leave him in capable hands, torture and maim Demyx, and fill in the post of Superior as long as he was ab—

"Mama. Your…mm." Xemnas was still sitting on his desk, legs swinging. He made a feeble gesture to between his eyes. "…There's um…"

"A great hulking cross-shaped scar on my forehead," I finished for him. "I really hadn't noticed. You never had a problem with it before, Sir, and…"

He didn't. He didn't just say—

"…What did you just call me?"

We fell into an ominous silence. Xemnas held up the Agrabah report. I saw a row of houses, stick figures with disproportionate heads, even a multicoloured rainbow. Well, as multicoloured as he could be with a red pen, anyway.

"…I drew it for you, Mama."

_And breathe, Saïx._

_Breathe._

"Sir…I mean, _Xemnas_. From now on, you call me Saïx. If you call me anything else, I will impale you on that ball point pen sooner than you can say 'Kingdom Hearts'. Is that understood?" I summoned a portal. "Get in."

"Eurgh, no! It's dark and horrible."

"No it's not, it's convenient. Get in," I said again.

"But Mama, I don't want to…"

"Right, where's that pen?! Look, just get in. Now."

Xemnas slipped off the desk, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "You'll come with me, won't you?"

"Yes I will, so hurry up!"

Xemnas dashed into the portal. It was then, alone and in a short space of clarity, that I realised a fatal flaw in this situation, a flaw that proved I was thankfully, in a nightmare rather than reality.

"Nobodies _can't_ age. It's impossible!" I stepped out of the portal into Vexen's dingy lab. "It's impossible, I tell you. How can you age something that was never alive to begin with?"

"Yes, it's impossible," Vexen agreed with a scowl. "Allergic reactions, on the other hand, are not." He turned in his chair, giving me an unnerving once over. Then, he spotted Xemnas hiding behind me. "Bleh," he muttered. "I thought as much."

I walked over to join Vexen. I was about to demand what he meant by an allergic reaction, but that my left leg was significantly heavier than my right got my attention first. "Superior…I mean, Xemnas. Will you please…"

He only held on tighter. "But Mama, it's dark and creepy."

"Hey, Xemnas!" Xigbar came to the rescue, and I legged it to Vexen while I had the chance. "C'mere kiddo, that's it. Nothing to be afraid of. Let's get you acquainted with Axel here. Axel, this is Xemnas. You have no choice but to be nice to him."

No, not Axel as well…! I cringed before I could even turn round to observe the horror. Child Axel smiled a pleasant, all too familiar smile. He held his arms wide, hugged Xemnas, promptly seized a clump of silver hair and yanked. Xemnas let out a scream; Axel burst out laughing. Xigbar leapt in to pull them apart. Vexen slumped over his keyboard in defeat.

I had never witnessed our Castle and members so disordered. The Organisation was all about organisation, damnit…! But there was my boss, snivelling and within moments, running back to me again. Xaldin was sat down in the far corner, with Lexaeus fast asleep at his feet. Number Three appeared torn between having a nervous breakdown and going on a murderous rampage. Lexaeus himself looked no older than two. Zexion was on the chair next to Vexen, his nose stuck in a book. He appeared to be the one least affected, still composed and having that natural smirk about him. I put him at six years of age, slightly older than Axel (who was currently being lectured by Xigbar).

Finally, and I found myself rather disturbed by his silence, was Demyx, on the stool next to Xaldin. He was trying to bite his nails through his gloves. Once or twice, Number Nine's gaze would study the children, and he'd squirm and flinch.

"Vexen. Explain," I demanded. I slumped into a chair, determined to ignore Xemnas crawling onto the armrest. Axel wandered over, mumbled an apology to Xemnas and sat on the floor to lean against my knees. I started to understand how violated statues felt when pigeons came to roost on them.

"Well, what _is_ there to explain?" Vexen huffed. "Four out of nine members have become children. Would you care to tell us how this happened, Demyx?"

At the mention of his name, Demyx jumped and mumbled something.

"That's right," said Vexen, apparently blessed with hypersensitive hearing. He held up a very familiar bottle. "Demyx bought revitalising shakes. They were distributed at random, along with sparkling water and fruit juice. Lexaeus, Xemnas, Zexion and Axel were given shakes. _Revitalising_ shakes. As in drinks bought by humans to de-age, turn back time, lose wrinkles, gain new energy, that sort of nonsense."

"Mama, I'm tired."

"I don't care. Those shakes are to blame? Seriously? It can't be as simple as that. The Superior isn't stupid enough to drink something not meant for a Nobody." My scar prickled with rage I was struggling to keep under control. Bloody Demyx, I knew it! Whose idea was it to recruit him?

"So what happens when a Nobody tries to lose a few nonexistent years of aging?" said Vexen, doing his best to ignore telltale signs of my temper. "Evidently, the formula does its best, the Nobody does his best, and lo and behold, a nice, de-aged Nobody. A child. A Nobody child unrelated to his Somebody, might I add. It's almost like an impossible part of a timeline, where instead of going from Somebody to Nobody, the formula fabricates its own events to fit in—I'm not making any sense, I'm tired." Vexen came to an abrupt halt. "And did he just call you Mama?"

I groaned, exasperated, and that feeling only grew worse when Xigbar grinned at me.

"Why's he calling you Mama?"

"Attachment, I think. I was the first person Xemnas saw, and he automatically—"

Xigbar raised his eyebrow. "Are you sure that apron you're still wearing had nothing to do with it?"

Apron? What apron?

"Fuck!" I screamed. I leapt to my feet and Axel keeled over. "For fuck's sake, just because I wear a f—"

"All right, calm down," said Xaldin, speaking up at last. "We get enough kicking and screaming from the children. I propose we all get some rest, and pray that by tomorrow morning, things have gone back to normal. If not, then we dispose of the mutations and recruit new members instead. Problem solved."

"They haven't mutated, they've had an _allergic reaction_." Vexen shot Xaldin a warning look. "Any more talk about turning on Organisation members, and I'll personally strangle you with your own braids. Now." He got up from his seat, pacing round his lab and surveying the scene, not unlike a teacher conducting detention. "With the Superior effectively out of action, we need a new order or else everything is going to fall apart."

"I'll do whatever it takes…I'm so sorry," said Demyx, almost sounding genuine. "I can't believe I've only just joined and already I've screwed up. Well, I can believe it, actually…"

Vexen banged a hand on the table, silencing him. "Order!" he enunciated. "Until we restore our members, our current missions will be put on hold and replaced by new ones. I will, quite obviously, be in charge of working out a way to reverse the effect of the shake. Demyx, how are you going to contribute?" Vexen didn't let the ice in his voice waver.

"Erm…I'll claim responsibility for Lexaeus there! He seems well behaved, least troublesome…"

"Sorry, Nine, Lexaeus is my responsibility," Xaldin retorted. "I'll take the easy route in order to stop you from getting it."

I had to hand it to Xaldin to maintain a sense of style and dignity about him, even if Lexeaus was currently dozing and dribbling on his shoe. I, in the meantime, couldn't even get my fucking apron off, not while Xemnas was clambering over my lap and Axel was feeling inclined to copy. I was still in a state of disbelief, but no one seemed to want to grant me time to recover.

"Axel, then," said Demyx. "I'll take care of Axel. Hey, I can teach you the sitar!"

"I guess that leaves me with Zexion, assuming you're claiming the Superior?" Xigbar said to me. "He looks very attached to Mama, eh?"

"Don't you start," I growled, getting up to leave.

"Well, that's worked out very nicely," said Vexen, conveniently forgetting to tag on 'for me'. "Let's act upon Xaldin's initial idea of getting some rest, so that we're fully prepared for tomorrow."

We summoned portals back to our rooms. Xemnas didn't complain this time round, something I was so grateful for. My torturous mission hadn't even started yet, and I was already sick to death of "But Mama…!"

Someone tugged my sleeve just as I was about to step through the portal. I looked down to see Zexion.

"I shan't call you Mama," he said, tucking his book under his arm. "You look like a man."

"Thank you, Zexion. I actually think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Now sod off."

Xigbar was next in line to harass me. "Saïx. You know, things aren't as bad as you think they are. There's an upside to this."

"Really? Let me know it, won't you. You know I have trouble seeing the funny side."

"Well, being 'Mama' grants you that authority you've been wanting since joining the Organisation." Xigbar flashed a smile. "You're in charge, so to speak. You get to boss everyone around, even the Superior. Plus, the only one who can technically usurp you _really_ doesn't feel like it this time round. Ha ha! Night night!"

I didn't have enough time to curse. Xigbar walked through his portal with Zexion in tow.

But…Xigbar did have a point. I was in charge. No more Xemnas to keep me busy working, no more Axel to pester and harass me. Upsides indeed.

-x-

This takes me to the now, with me playing noughts and crosses with Xemnas. He claims he isn't tired, but I beg to differ. An hour has passed since we adjourned from Vexen's lab, and in that space of time, conversation between Xemnas and me has evolved from:

"Mama?"

"For fuck's sake, Sir—I mean, Xemnas."

to:

"Mama?"

"Yes, Xemnas?"

Don't ask. For one thing, I tend to be enraged for only a short amount of time. Then, I just run out of steam and give up. I'm not saying I'm defeatist, but sometimes, things are a lot less painful if you let them have their way.

At least, that's what I'm hoping.

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_A/N: I'm new to writing KH fanfics, so I'm not entirely sure if this is an overused idea. In any case, reviews of any kind are welcome! If you find any typos or syntax errors, please let me know. I probably messed up at some point with the tense, but hopefully the read wasn't too painful. I guess there are some instances of OOC here, so I only ask that you don't take this fic too seriously…_

_I've deliberately varied the ages of the four Organisation kids – kudos to anyone who can figure out the pattern._

_Also, just to note that as Demyx is the newest member, there's no Luxord, Larxene, Marluxia or Roxas in this. I left them out because otherwise it becomes a case of 'too many cooks', and having Demyx as the newbie works quite nicely._


	2. Breakfast at Saïx's

_Disclaimer: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_Warning: Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth)._

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**COOKING MAMA**

**2: Breakfast at Saïx's**

* * *

The next morning, I get woken up by someone bawling. It sounds like a defective alarm, with stops and starts and attempts at different notes, and it's _just so fucking loud_. I try the pillow over head tactic. It doesn't work. Couple that with hands over ears, and it still doesn't work.

As you can probably tell, mercy is not my greatest fan.

I surrender. Cue bed head, despairing, only-six-hours-of-fretful-sleep Saïx. I slide out of the covers and pull on my coat. I open up and narrowly miss stepping on something. "_Lexaeus_?!"

What a horrific discovery. I suppose I had been expecting Xemnas. But it's Lexaeus all right, in a heap on the floor, sobbing. His cries bounce off the walls and I swear that my ears are going to fall off. "Lexaeus?" I say again. His screams die down a little. "But…Where's—" I spot someone down the corridor, stomping away and looking damn pleased with himself. "Xaldin! Don't you dare just dump your responsibility onto me and expect me to deal! You'll explain now—!"

Xaldin only turns round with a smile. It's not the most pleasant face. "Hmm, where to start. Lexaeus started crying this morning, so I asked him if he wanted his Mama. He made a whiny noise. I interpreted it as yes. Bye."

"Oh no you don't…"

I jump over Lexaeus, making a break for him. Shit, I'm _so_ close to seizing one of those braids, but I end up catching nothing but air as he portals away. I glare at the empty space.

Rage bubbles up inside of me, but I let it out in a controlled, one-word utter ("Bastard!") before going over my usual mantra. _Inhale, Saïx. Now slowly…slowly exhale._

Lexaeus is still crying. He's curled up in a ball and clenching his fat fists. He doesn't seem to have any intention of relenting, and I'm really not used to Lexaeus being so vocal. Not liking it.

So, how exactly does someone get a screaming baby to shut up? Fuck knows, but here goes.

I stoop, pull Lexaeus into my arms and groan at the weight. I'd never have thought a baby would be this heavy. Or maybe Lexaeus is just an exception?

I go back to my room and kick the door shut. As if by magic, Lexaeus calms down as I walk, his chin resting on my shoulder, arms looping round my neck. He appears to like movement. The sobs become mild snivels and a series of hiccups. I pace up and down the length of my room in an uncanny likeness to Vexen. I shift my weight from one leg to the other, in time with my thoughts, and Lexaeus gurgles in appreciation.

"That's it, you little bastard," I murmur, "shut up and sleep."

Fuck, I'm actually _rocking_ him.

Lexaeus doesn't fall asleep, but he does spare me from the torture of another screaming session. I set him down on my bed and leave him there, so that I can go to the bathroom to shower and change. I decide that if he starts crying again, I will summon a portal to Xaldin and nail this baby to his forehead.

-x-

"Mama, good morning…!"

"Well, if it isn't my persistent, joyous shadow. I was wondering where you had gone."

When I leave my bedroom (with Lexaeus in my arms again), Xemnas skids over from nowhere. He laughs like I've just paid him a compliment. Heck, maybe I have. I'm so used to adult Xemnas following me and rambling away, but when he's a child, the incessant orders to do work are wonderfully absent.

"I've been exploring the Castle. Uncle's looking for you," says Xemnas. "And Axel says we're having pancakes for breakfast today. Is that true? Also, Zexion's weird and I don't like him at all."

"I hear you. And _Uncle_?" I prompt him. "That's the first I've heard of any uncle here."

Xemnas blinks, and then covers an eye with a hand.

Ah.

"I suppose I should be glad he didn't name himself Dada," I mutter to no one in particular. I summon a portal to the kitchen, and Xemnas runs through it with no hesitance. I follow him, and make my second horrific discovery for this morning: that Lexaeus' lung power is nothing compared to Axel's.

It's difficult to describe such a torturous voice. While Lexaeus is like a siren, screeching and painful, Axel's shouting is a peal of bells. It echoes and drills and fucks up my whole head, as if I've just stuck it in a vacuum.

"Pancakes!" Axel yells. He bangs his cutlery – two knives – on the table in time. "Pancakes for breakfast! Pancakes!"

Lexeaus giggles, and Xemnas climbs onto a chair of his own and starts to copy Axel's chant. Zexion is already at the kitchen island with them, but he, thankfully, isn't screaming for pancakes. He's reading, as usual, but he's also wearing nothing but a vest and a pair of shorts.

I'm actually calm about all this. I only need to threaten them, the same I way I got Xemnas to stay in his room and sleep last night ("If I hear so much as a sneeze from you, I'll come round and peel off your fingernails," I warned him). And if that doesn't work, there's always my berserker mode to fall back on.

What really grates me, on the other hand, is that save for me, there's no other fucking adult in sight.

"Pancakes!" screams Axel.

"Pancakes!" screams Xemnas.

"Gaa!" screams Lexaeus.

"_Enough_!" I shout. "One more mention of pancakes, and I'll pummel you so you're as flat as one, understand?"

Xemnas does. He shrinks back, while Axel sticks his chin out in defiance. Zexion doesn't acknowledge me altogether.

"I'll make this simple." I exhale loudly, looking as menacing as I can while there's a baby on my hip_._ "One, you don't get anything if you scream for it. Two, I'm the one who decides what's for breakfast. Three, reading is banned from the table."

I snatch up Zexion's book and toss it behind me into the sink. Zexion favours me with a stony look I'm not foreign to. "Four," I continue. ("Four!" Lexaeus repeats happily.) "If the adult in charge of you tries or succeeds in shaking off their responsibility, you have my express permission to batter said adult to a pulp. Put your hand up if you're confused by anything I've said."

No hands. "Good. Now, the kitchen table you're sitting at isn't where we convene for meals. We actually use the dining room. So, the three of you will go wash your hands, sit down over there _in silence _and wait while I make breakfast."

Axel sits up straighter. "Wh…what are we having?"

"Pancakes," I confirm grudgingly, only because it's the first thing to come to mind. "But one sound, and then I'll serve up and eat all nine of them in front of you."

They traipse to the sink, obeying my orders. Xemnas and Axel go first, and when Zexion retrieves his book, it's sopping wet. Clutching it and still in his underwear, he looks such a sorry state that I have to ask him where his uniform is.

His visible eye just studies me, and his frown increases a tad. There's always something unnerving about the way Zexion always stares before answering. I can practically hear the cogs turning in his head. "I feel like I'm part of an oppressive cult when I wear it. That's what we are, aren't we? We're certainly not a family like Maylis said."

"Who?"

Zexion opens a hand and begins to count off his fingers. "We wear the same clothes. We live in a base, not a house. We travel using dark pathways. _Nearly_ everyone has an X in their name." He sneers. Or maybe that's a smile. "I've decided I don't want to be a part of it."

Seriously, this allergic reaction could have altered Zexion to be someone who _didn't_ make it his mission to be eternally spiteful. It'd be a welcome change. Anyhow, I take two split seconds to marvel at how nothing escapes Zexion, even when he's a six-year-old. Then, I catch his jibe about the X.

"Why you…"

"Don't worry, I know your name isn't really Mama," says Zexion, convinced he's being charitable. "I meant me. I'm going to change my name so that it doesn't have an X."

"Fuckwit?" I suggest, but it sadly goes amiss. Xigbar portals into the kitchen at that exact moment, whistling.

"Morning, Mama!" he greets. He puts down three carrier bags and I stare at him, waving my hands for an explanation. "Shopping," says Xigbar. He passes Zexion a new set of clothes and shoes. "Those are for you, kiddo. I also asked a store clerk to pull up the hardest puzzle they have in stock. See if you can get this bottle out from the wooden cage. C'mon, Saïx, don't look so angry," he adds. "I left Zexion for twenty minutes tops, and all for a good reason."

I shift Lexaeus higher on my hip (seriously, he's a heavy baby) and go for my mellow mood. I'm all for throwing a temper, yet Xigbar _is_ here at least, and that's more than what Xaldin and Demyx have managed. "Did you buy anything besides spoils for Zexion?" I ask.

"Hmph. Course I did. I bought everything you need to make pancakes, some games to keep them occupied." He doesn't let my glare get to him. "The way I see it – those kids are going to want to be entertained. If we don't provide them with anything, they're going to do it themselves. And that usually involves mischief and fighting with one another. That better?" He turns to Zexion, who is now hardly recognisable in a pair of jeans, a sweater and trainers.

"Yes. Thank you," he murmurs. "But I still think you're too old to be my uncle."

"Great uncle then," Xigbar compromises, "not Grandpa – that's Vexen."

"Why does everyone suddenly have—" I start, but Xigbar cuts across me, ushering Zexion into the dining room. "Why don't you sit down with the others and work on that puzzle?" Xigbar tells me wordlessly that he'll get back to me.

I shrug. "What to do with you?" I say to Lexaeus. There's nowhere that isn't either in the way or too precarious. Unless…I move aside a pair of scales and sit Lexaeus on top of the microwave. He seems to like it, and I can get on with cooking while having him in plain view.

I put on my apron and calculate how much of each ingredient I'm going to need. When Xigbar comes back into the kitchen, he remarks, "You've really got all four of them under your thumb, haven't you? The Organisation's domestic Nobody…talk about power and control."

I can't tell if Xigbar is complimenting or insulting me, so I just leave it vague and tell him to bugger off. I have nine lots of breakfast to make and I can't do it if Xigbar's going to take adult Xemnas' place and start distracting me with conversation. I throw off my gloves, wash my hands and start on the eggs.

Xigbar takes a seat at the kitchen island. He's out of my sight while I cook, and that eases my worries somewhat. Whenever I have to go to the table to retrieve more ingredients, though, he watches me with a face as inscrutable as Zexion's. Lexaeus, too, appears to find me fascinating, following me with his eyes and calling out the name of food he recognises. In the dining room, the three other children are deathly silent.

For the first time this morning, I fall into a peaceful, relaxed mood – the sort of mood I'd only reach with the help of moonlight.

Four pans on the cooker, and within a few minutes, the sweet smell of pancakes overrides the empty feel of the kitchen. I catch Axel clapping his hands eagerly, and Zexion is still trying to get his head round solving his puzzle.

I serve up the first one done, drenching it in lemon. Complemented by a cup of black tea and a boiled egg, I stick it all onto a tray and slide it to Two. "Vexen's. He'll probably be eating in his lab. Can you also go and ask Xemnas and co what they want with their pancakes."

Tea, lemon crepe and bacon rashers for Demyx; a carbon copy of Demyx's plus cream – that's Xigbar. Scrambled egg, milky coffee and a plain pancake – that's Xaldin. (Resisting the urge to spit into his coffee – that's good old me.)

"Axel is ice cream, Xemnas is syrup, Zexion is…ah, raisins and whipped cream. Sheesh, that by itself is hard enough to remember – how do you do it? Oh, thanks." Xigbar spots his tray and takes it to the dining room.

I just love how Xaldin and Demyx stroll in from their portals for breakfast, neither looking apologetic for abandoning their duty and leaving it to me. I suppose they know that when I'm in any mood besides berserk, I'm actually quite a pushover. That's why I'm Xemnas' right hand: I have zero talent in making a stand for myself.

I serve up my own breakfast, only feeling a smidgen of accomplishment as everyone (bar Vexen) eats breakfast together. I break my own rule and sit at the kitchen island with Lexaeus on my lap. When I open up a box of strawberries, Lexaeus suddenly starts 'screaming'. It turns out to be laughter. He claps his hands and points to the fruit, babbling.

I cut up Lexaeus' pancake for him, and guessing that he's a fan of strawberries, I toss a generous amount of them into his bowl. He smiles up at me and smacks his lips. It's the first sign of true appreciation anyone has shown me this morning. "Berry," he says confidently, and he proceeds to peel off the leaves before eating them – not with his hands, but my fricking fork.

I cannot honestly tell you what godforsaken power took control of me at that moment. Whatever it was, it had me enthralled and amazed. You see, I'm a Nobody, and that means who I am now is who I'll always be. Baby Lexaeus, on the other hand…well, he's developing right before my eyes. Three tries with the fork, and he works out that it's easier to grip the bowl if he wants to corner that strawberry. He learns – through mimicking me – that he can drink from a glass if he tips it at the right angle.

He's a clever little thing. I suppose I had assumed he'd be reliant and practically helpless. Apparently not.

Let me remind you of what I'm doing. I'm sitting at an island with my apron still on, halfway through my breakfast, which I happen to be sharing with Lexaeus. (_Lexaeus_, as in big, mean, frank and business-like Number Five, who is to Zexion what I am to Xemnas.) He is on my lap, attacking a strawberry with his fork, and I'm wiping his milk moustache with a napkin and talking to him about how nice a change it is that someone eats everything given to him.

So…do you have a clear picture of me?

Because that's what Vexen sees when he portals into the kitchen without warning.

"Ah," he begins, perhaps wondering – like me – if it's all right to just feign innocence. No, I did not just coo over Lexaeus. No, Vexen did not witness such a thing. I can't see either of us buying it.

"…Shut up, Vexen."

"No, but this is perfect!" Vexen exclaims, his voice so loud that both Lexaeus and I jump. He quickly disposes of his breakfast tray (his pancake isn't even half eaten, I note with annoyance) and starts to pace. His arms move a little like a conductor preparing to lead an orchestra into a funeral march. Eyebrows furrow themselves together, and his mouth moves soundlessly as he thinks up of the best way to begin. His expression is a mix of bemused, harassed and thrilled. This is Vexen's infamous Proposal Stance.

When Vexen adopts the Proposal Stance, it means that he is about to suggest a brilliant idea that will contribute to his quest for knowledge as our scientist, but horribly inconvenience someone else in the process. That someone else is usually called Saïx.

"Vexen, if you think—"

"Five minutes!" he interjects, motioning for me to keep quiet. My scar itches and stretches, and it's only because Lexaeus is sitting on me that I don't get up and smack that scientist upside the head. "Seven, on the presumption that you'll continue to care for and look after the children, I'd like to investigate into—"

"Vexen…"

"—the specifics behind this allergic reaction, Number Six in particular. You see, he insists that he is from an orphanage run by a woman called Maylis, which begs the question _why_? Neither adult Zexion nor Ienzo set foot in an orphanage. These are _fabricated_ memories—"

"Wait, Vexen…"

"—fabricated, but so realistic and plausible, that it makes me wonder if an alternate timeline has meshed with each of the affected Nobodies. Six, for example, doesn't recognise you as 'Mama' because in his fabricated past, he has met women, mothers, primary caregivers et cetera. The Superior and Eight, on the other hand—"

"For fuck's sake, Vexen, I'm eating!" My fork hits the table. Vexen snaps out of his incessant prattling. He looks shocked to see me. (Honestly, wasn't he meant to be talking to me?) "When I'm eating, I don't want to see your face and I certainly don't want to make conversation with you. Grant me a few more minutes of freedom before you chain me down with parental responsibilities, and just…I don't know, go away for a while."

"Go away!" Lexaeus repeats.

Vexen pulls a face, offended. I kind of don't care. "…Right," he huffs, stalking away. "Sometime later, then."

I shrug and resume eating, though with only half as much enthusiasm. I should have guessed this would happen. Why would Vexen cure the allergic reaction straightaway? With Xemnas incapacitated, that gives Vexen the biggest dose of free rein, do-whatever-experiments-you-like since joining the Organisation. Vexen doesn't need to worry about the situation getting out of hand either, because there's this lunatic Nobody who's obsessed with keeping things running smoothly.

Of course he isn't going to let an opportunity like that go to waste.

I slump forwards onto the table, and Lexaeus, possibly recognising what such an action means, reaches out and pats my head, his sticky hand catching onto my hair.

Who's looking after whom now?

-x-

I feel a bit better by the early afternoon. I'm an excellent multitasker, so I manage to rewrite my Agrabah report while dictating a shopping list to Demyx and playing hangman with Axel. Lexaeus is sprawled on the sofa opposite me, snoring.

"Nappies," I tell Demyx, ignoring his look of horror. "Lexaeus appears trained, but I think we should have nappies on standby. I said _D_, Axel, not _G._ Also, four sets of children's pyjamas, some child size cutlery sets, a booster seat, lots of napkins, and some sort of colouring kit for Xemnas. Is that what you want?"

Xemnas looks up from his current work of doodling on scrap paper and nods hopefully. (Xemnas had argued that since Zexion had got a toy, it was only fair that everyone else got a toy too. Which is true I guess, and besides, I'm all for directing my Superior's creative impulse to something other than my reports.)

"And Axel wants a ball," I finish. I look up to see Demyx scribbling frantically. "Got everything? Good. Go and buy it all. If you come back with another set of revitalis—"

"I know, I know!" Demyx whines. "I've heard this before and I've told you so many times that I'm sorry."

He portals out of the Grey Area and I sigh, leaning back into the sofa. "…_F_."

Axel shakes his head, feeling smug. I've already worked out the sentence, but I'm deliberately drawing out the game because I'm not keen on finishing it to read out _Xemnas is stupid_, and break up another fight between the Superior and Eight.

It's quite extraordinary when I think about it. The two have never seen eye to eye, and this mutual dislike is still present when they become children and effectively, different Nobodies altogether. Also, rather like their adult selves, they're both quite possessive of me. Xemnas vies for my attention with his drawings, Axel carries on with hangman. They're very tame methods compared to the usual. Adult Axel keeps hold of me because of our crazy idea to one day overthrow the Organisation; adult Xemnas has me under his thumb because…well, you know, he _is_ the Superior…

As I contemplate what to do about this hangman game, Xigbar rescues me and wanders into the Grey Area. He's panting and clutching his figurative heart to catch his breath; when he slumps onto the sofa, Lexaeus grunts and rolls over from the impact.

"What's the matter with you?" I ask.

"Just took…Zexion…bathroom," he wheezes, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Refuses Organisation so…no portal…nine flights of stairs…tried giving directions, but he demanded I just show him there…gah, I'm knackered."

I feel a rush of relief knowing that Zexion doesn't like me and isn't in my care. I wouldn't trade all three of my charges for that mouthy smart aleck.

"I could run up nine flights of stairs, no problem," remarks Axel.

"Why are the toilets so far away?" Xemnas tilts his head to the side. The innocent expression doesn't do him any favours.

"Because you designed it that way!" Xigbar snaps. "Well, not _you_ personally, I mean you in…oh, it doesn't matter. I learned a very valuable lesson…"

"You're too reliant on portals?" I suggest, doing my best to be unhelpful.

Xigbar scowls. "That, and also that Zexion's an arse, no matter how old he is. Hear my theory about him. His Nobody age is about twenty, but he behaves twice that age – agree?"

I shrug, and Xigbar takes that as a yes. "And now he's six-ish, which would make him behave like a twelve-year-old if you double that too. Twelve, as in someone on the verge of becoming a teenager. No wonder why he's causing me so much grief."

"So how old is he really?" Axel demands. "You're not making any sense."

"That would be because I'm not actually talking to you. Now I will. So! Axel and Xemnas!" His falsely cheery voice fails to sugar coat the terrible suggestion he is about to come out with. "Who wants to come with me to see Grandpa Vexen?"

They shake their heads at tremendous speed. I swear Axel loses some of his hair by doing it. Xigbar snorts at the response. "I'm kidding. He only wants to see you, Saïx. I'll stay and babysit; I'm meant to be regrouping with Zexion here anyway."

-x-

Vexen's lab is more an underground flat than an area dedicated to research. There are small rooms that branch off from his workstation, for example the mini library and the kitchenette. Vexen is in a room I dub the Proposal Room, because spending ample amounts of time in that empty place, merely pacing, tends to lead Vexen to a…you've got it, Proposal. Deep joy.

"How kind of you to spare me some time. After all, I'm only the Organisation's leading scientist," is Vexen's idea of a greeting. "Now, about my proposal. Don't just stand there, come in."

I try and get comfortable in the Proposal Room, which consists of a single armchair and a window with not much of a view (it looks out at a wall). I lean against the wall and cross my arms. "You're interested in this allergic reaction and want to conduct various experiments. In order to be able to do that safely, so that there are no repercussions – particularly from Xemnas – you need my permission. I hate to say it, Vexen, but you're very predictable."

Vexen shrugs. He's good at deflecting insults in the name of science. "You said some words yesterday that prompted me, Seven," he says. "About the Superior. How he wasn't foolish enough to drink something not meant for a Nobody."

"What about it?"

"I agree with it," Vexen clarifies. "The Superior wouldn't have had the revitalising shake unless he knew all too well what he was doing. He drank it _on purpose_, Seven."

I stare at him. "…What? Why would he drink it on purpose?"

"Because he knows he can," Vexen ploughs on. He's encouraged by me being attentive towards him for once. "The Superior can throw the Organisation and himself into turmoil because he knows you're going to pick up the slack, and I'm going to cure him. He's testing us all, I'm telling you…!"

It's common knowledge that we all fear Xemnas to a degree (the classic Dusk threat, anyone?). But this…this is just bordering on paranoia. This is Vexen being Vexen.

Then again, our leading scientist does tend to have an uncanny habit of being right…

"He's testing us? You mean to say he willingly became a child, so as to—"

"—assess our capabilities. Exactly, Seven. Do get a move on," Vexen barks. "We have to have something to show once he recovers. Why do you think Xigbar is suddenly cooperating with you, and Xaldin is focusing on recruiting that reluctant Nobody in Twilight Town? Because they're not stupid enough to slack off while the Superior's away. Clearly, Demyx is oblivious to the true situation."

This is perhaps the longest, argument-free conversation we've ever had. Vexen has a point. A very big, very _right_ point. It doesn't take much extrapolation to be convinced that yes, Xemnas would deliberately put the Organisation through this. I suddenly want to throttle him, that arrogant, self-serving bastard.

"…You can't do experiments on the Organisation's own members," I say after a moment of thought. "Nothing damaging, all right?"

"Yes, yes, what do you take me for," Vexen grumbles.

"I want reports."

"Yes, you don't even need to ask—"

"I wasn't asking, I was demanding. Answers, explanations and findings, Vexen." I create a portal to escape from him. (Some of Vexen's paranoia rubs off on you if you stick around him too long. Honestly, I'm happy to admit that right now, child Xemnas is the most frightening being I've ever come across.)

"I'll see you at six then."

I stop walking. "What?"

"At six. It's Monday today. We have our weekly meeting in the Round Room – or at least I hope we do. I've got plenty of issues to discuss and—"

He's got to be joking. No, hang on. It's Vexen. He's worse than I am at joking. "Half of our team are children. It's out of the question. How can you expect us to have a productive, coherent meeting when…"

Wait, wait.

Monday meetings at six. The Round Room.

"Actually, fuck that," I say slowly, "why _should _we cancel our meeting? It's still a full house, and Demyx does need to integrate. And you have topics to discuss, you say? Then let's call a meet—"

Vexen scoffs. "Enough of the niceties, Seven. What's the real reason for the change in mind?"

I grin and Vexen pulls a face of alarm. "I really want to watch Xigbar try and get Zexion into his seat without a portal."

* * *

_A/N: Second chapter done! I'm not usually this fast with updates, by the way. This is a one time thing XD I'm going to attempt to explain more of the hows and whys of the situation through Vexen… _

_This chapter also backfired on me in the sense that I deliberately made Lexaeus the youngest so that he wouldn't get such a major part. But now he's become Saïx's favourite (only because he's well behaved) and now I adore writing him. This is what I get for not having a story plan…_

_Anyway, please feel free to review/comment with any sort of feedback you like (if you have any suggestions for the team's weekly meeting, do let me know). Many thanks to those who have reviewed/fav'd/alerted so far, and thanks for reading :)_


	3. Seven Hears Bad Luck

_Disclaimer: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_Warning: Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth)._

* * *

**COOKING MAMA**

**3: Seven Hears Bad Luck**

* * *

Somewhere in child Xemnas is an adult Xemnas pissing himself laughing. I just know it. I study the innocent face, trying to catch a glint of betrayal, a smidgen of the Superior's true colours, but no avail. He just looks bemused, borderline afraid.

"I know you're in there somewhere, having a good time," I utter to my pint sized boss, squatting to match his height. "Just because you have our loyalty, doesn't mean you can abuse it. You downed that stupid shake, banking on our allegiance to save you. What if I don't feel like it? What if I were to commit a mutiny right here, right now? What if I grabbed Vexen and Xaldin, legged it out of here and left you? Then what would you do?"

"Mama, you're talking too fast and I don't understand." He shakes his head at me, sorrowful, as if _I'm_ the lost cause here. "But you can't leave. You just _can't_."

He falls forwards, arms outstretched. I know what that means. I scrabble to my feet. "Bleh, get back!" I snap at him. "We don't hug. Ever."

"Why not?" Xemnas says. His arms stay open; he's ready to cry. Well, tough shit, Superior. Let's think about me for once.

"Because it makes me uncomfortable. I have enough of your adult self perving over me; I don't want you molesting me as a child as well."

Xemnas furrows his eyebrows, rubbing the side of his head. "What does _molesting_ mean?"

"Never mind. Look, it's nearly six. We have to go to the meeting."

"And what's a _mutiny_?" Xemnas calls. He has to run to keep in step with me.

"A mutiny is something I'll probably never end up committing."

I scowl, unsure whether to be angry with him or myself. It's no wonder why Xemnas can incapacitate himself like this with no concern for the consequences. There _aren't_ consequences, not when I'm here to handle it all. And I will, because what else am I supposed to do? He's so manipulated me that if I make a break for it, whatever route I take will lead me back to him.

I look down as he runs at my side, humming and smiling.

I don't care how innocent he looks, I _know_ that that's adult Xemnas grinning back at me.

**-x-**

Here's a question. Do you know what a Death Glare is?

It's a clever arrangement of one's face, so that it scares someone shitless, and that someone stops trying to piss you off. It's a handy way of regaining control of a situation. It does wonders for your reputation as well. Death Glares are my and Xaldin's speciality.

At quarter to six, not long before our weekly meeting in the Round Room, Xaldin and I discover that children are, in fact, immune to the Death Glare.

They actually find it funny.

"Hey, Zexion!" cries Axel. "Guess who this is, all right?" He curls up his fingers save for his index ones, which he forms a cross with and positions between his eyes. He pulls a face to make him look constipated, and then he stomps around in circles, huffing and puffing. Demyx cracks up; Xigbar tries to suppress a smile. "Grr! Do your work! Stop looking happy! Don't breathe so loud!"

I can't believe it. I _cannot_ believe it. For so long, I have been the bully of the Organisation, verbally whipping the members into work. For so long, I have worked hard for a cushy spot at the top of the ladder and the respect that comes with it. Now it's gone, and I'm the laughing stock of the team. My austerity is now a great way to make people laugh. Un-fucking-believable.

My composure starts to slide away from me. I scrabble to maintain control of it by counting in my head, but I forget what comes after three.

"You'll…You'll pay for that!" Xemnas leaps to my rescue, which I really don't need at the moment. He throws himself at Axel, tackling him to the floor. They kick and scream and try to bite one another's hands. Xaldin groans, covering his ears; Vexen puts in his earplugs, closes his eyes and shuts himself off to the rest of the world. Lexaeus gurgles and splutters (at least someone finds it funny), and Demyx runs to a safe spot before Xemnas crashes into him. Xigbar tries to intervene, adopting his typical _I'm your friend_ routine.

"Someone should break up the fight," Zexion remarks, coming close to a smile. "You know, properly."

I shoot him a Death Glare, but remember what I said about them not working? Zexion just ignores me, surveying the fight with twisted interest, nodding in approval when Axel elbows Xigbar in his good eye.

I have to do something. Think, Saïx, think.

"Mama, help!" Xemnas cries. "He's got my hair!"

Okay, so to everyone else it looks like I acted on that plea, but no, that's not the case. I had actually come up with an idea right when Xemnas called. They're fighting, but there's not a single aerial blade or chakram in sight. Chances are they can't summon their weapons. I, on the other hand, _can_ do such a thing, and if Death Glares won't work, then maybe a giant fucking claymore will.

"Xigbar, move." I wait for an opening. Just as Xemnas and Axel are about to come to blows, I throw the claymore down between them. _CRASH!_ They stumble backwards as the shockwave hits them. At long, long last, they fall silent. Xemnas rubs the side of his head, whimpering a little. Axel has a nice clump of silver hair in his left hand. He _so_ has to be set straight.

"…How d'you do that?" asks Axel. I should have guessed he'd be more enthralled than intimidated. "It's like magic. Wh-what is it?"

"That's a claymore, and I'll warn you now, it's painful," I say to him, walking over and summoning the weapon back to my hand. I try to ignore Xemnas running to hide behind my leg. "If you want to fuck with me, by all means go ahead. Who do you think would win in a fight between you and me? Exactly. So get up, behave yourself and go through this portal to your seat. Everyone else – I suggest you do the same."

I poke Vexen's shoulder to prompt him out of his dream world. Then, I draw up a door for Axel, and seal it as he passes through in a huff. Lexaeus is a bit trickier. I end up going through the portal with him, sitting him down while I balance on the armrest and talk to him like a puppy. ("_Stay,_ Lexaeus. Wander off and then your skull will smash and you'll die and everyone will laugh at you.")

Xemnas is worse.

"Meetings are boring. All people do is talk and talk," Xemnas proclaims. (Oh, the irony.) "I don't want to go. Can't…Can't I just stay here and draw?"

"No." I give him a meaningful prod to his portal. "You're going because everyone else is."

"Zexion isn't," Xemnas points out, and it's true. Xigbar isn't having much luck. In all honesty, he stands about as much chance as a poor sod trying to pull an elephant along with an elastic band.

"Seriously, it's not all bad," says Xigbar. "You get a nice seat and you don't have to pay attention if you don't want to. You're allowed to nod off; it's merely attendance that's compulsory."

"If I attend, it means that I conform to your cult. I've told you I don't want to be a part of it." Zexion turns up his nose.

"We're not a cult, we're an organisation," Xigbar protests.

Zexion is unrelenting. "Your cult is disturbing and illogical. Things don't add up."

"Say, Superi—_Xemnas_." I turn idly to him. "What colour are you missing in your drawing kit?"

"…Orange." He hovers by the portal, fidgety.

"I can get you orange," I tell him. "Just go in that portal and sit through the meeting without causing trouble."

Amazing. _Do this and you will get this_. There's nothing to suggest it's a binding agreement, but that doesn't occur to Xemnas. He really thinks it's a promise, and one that I intend to keep. He'll do anything for a fricking colouring pencil. Funny, really, bearing in mind his adult self can barely be convinced to lift a finger.

"Your seat's high, so careful," I call after Xemnas. "Right. Three down, one left."

Zexion quirks an eyebrow at me. "Bribery will not work on _me_. As I was saying, the name calling," he says, addressing me as well as Xigbar. (I remember now. He was criticising and complaining, wasn't he? It's like the adult Zexion never left us.) "Why do people call Xemnas 'Superior'? What exactly is superior about him? Is he royalty or something? What about numbers? Why are you Two, and why am I Six? This place makes little sense. I'd rather go back to the orphanage than stay here."

"Well, I'd quite like that too, but I'm afraid it doesn't work like that." Xigbar gestures to the portal, attempting a feeble wave to make it look enticing. "For one thing, your orphanage doesn't exist. More importantly, you're a crucial member of the Organisation. Now inside, if you please. Don't make me tip you upside down over a bottomless pit."

"Like that will change my mind."

"I can do it, you know!" Xigbar huffs.

It's true, to some extent. Xigbar is an expert in manipulating space and gravity. Still, I'd like to see him try and catch Zexion in the first place. It's tempting to stand around and watch the struggle. A nice change to see Xigbar being driven up the wall rather than the usual suspect (me of course). However, as time is pressing and the meeting does need to commence, I might as well intervene.

"Zexion, I don't think you should pass up this meeting, since you have a lot to complain about." I shut Xigbar's portal for him. "That's the point of us getting together, to discuss and plan and hear others' opinions. In due time, you can have your questions answered, and understand more about us. To dismiss us as a cult and refuse any contact is very irrational for someone who likes to learn."

Zexion pulls a face, the sort of look someone wears when they have been cornered. I know how to exploit others as well as he does. Zexion's biggest weakness is knowledge; he can be any age and that fact won't change.

So who was it saying that bribery wouldn't work?

Zexion – 0. Saïx – 1.

**-x-**

Scratch that.

Zexion – 1. Saïx – 0.

Since I effectively gave him free rein to complain about whatever he likes, he's now become a royal pain in the arse. Sitting down and shutting up is apparently impossible for Zexion.

"This is ridiculous," he spits, and his voice echoes off the white walls so that no ear can be spared. He's inside at least, staring up at us from the floor since he refused to portal into his seat. "Why are the chairs up so high? What's the _point_? What if I wanted to make notes? Would you make me a twenty feet high table too?"

"The grandeur of the Round Room reflects the greatness of the decisions that come from within it," Xaldin answers.

"Is it meant to reflect the impracticality too?" Zexion grumbles.

"Are you really six? Look, try and be polite. Thankfully, your seat isn't so far above the ground," says Xigbar, seriously misjudging it. (He does only have one eye, so I think we can let him off.) "I can probably give you a leg up and you can sit up there with the rest of us."

"I'm perfectly fine here. I think this room is the most insensible room I have ever come across—"

"I think it's cool," says Demyx, already at ease in his seat. He's sat next to me, and it's quite irritating to see him slouch and kick his legs around like he's on a deckchair rather than attending a formal gathering. Lexaeus is on my right, barely filling the space and babbling to himself.

"Look, can I just leave him here?" Xigbar pleads to me, deciding he's had enough of Zexion. "He's practically present, isn't he?"

I shrug. "It'll do. Let's start." I study my clipboard, reading the notes I had accumulated over the past week. The memory of investigating and writing reports to serve Xemnas seems so far away, and it's only been one fucking day with these kids. "Three items to discuss, namely the allergic reaction, a proposal from Vexen and the Nobody in Twilight Town. Superior, where shall we start?"

It's how things are always done. I read out what needs to be discussed and then hand it to Xemnas, who tells us what to do. However, Xemnas is sat in his seat with his face as white as his hair. His hands hold onto the armrests for dear life and he appears to be hyperventilating.

"M-Mama, it's too high…! I don't like it."

"You decided on seat height yourself," Xaldin points out (very unhelpfully). He sighs. "Since the Superior is incapacitated, and Xigbar failed in his simple task of getting Zexion to his chair, I nominate myself to lead today's meeting. Any objections?"

We adults shake our heads. Out of the corner of my eye, Lexaeus copies this movement.

"The most pressing matter is the Nobody, Rould. He's proving immensely difficult."

"Who's Rould?" Axel asks. Unlike Xemnas, he's comfortable in his seat and participating.

"He's someone we're trying to recruit," says Xaldin, to which Zexion replies, "Brainwash, you mean?"

Xaldin ignores him. "Before his incapacitation, the Superior put great stress on recruiting Rould, or Luxord, as Xemnas has named him."

"He already has a name?" says Demyx. "I only got mine after I agreed to join."

"That's normal procedure," I contribute, "except Luxord is someone we've been trying to recruit for a long time. If things went according to plan, he would have been our Number Nine and you, Ten. However, despite Xigbar and Xaldin's efforts, Luxord still feels disinclined to join us. Xemnas has made it clear that we need him."

"I haven't! I don't know who he even is!" Xemnas shouts, still gripping his armrests.

"So you find random people, brainwash them and give them names, because _Xemnas_ tells you to?" Zexion sneers. I feel ready to jump down to that platform and throttle him, when I realise that Zexion's comment isn't far off the mark. Talk about wounding.

"I don't mind about Rould any more, just get me down from here," Xemnas whines.

"In conclusion," Xaldin plunders on like a merciless train at full speed, "not even our ultimate goal or the reward we seek interests him. He's too comfortable where he is."

"Then I suggest you make things _un_comfortable for him," Vexen quips.

"Trust me, we've done the whole spectrum. Threats, bribery, smooth talk, violence. One extremity after another. Luxord simply doesn't care." Xigbar scratches the back of his head, perplexed. "And then there's his element to worry about. We have a five minute audience with him, and then when we leave, we find out a whole day has passed. I propose we come at another angle."

"Delegating, you mean?" I scoff at the idea, because 'delegating' usually means 'just throw it to Saïx'. "I'm currently a babysitter; my hands are full. Demyx is in no position for such an important mission, and after his screw up with the shakes, that means that Vexen is tied up too. Luxord will have to remain your responsibility, Xigbar. Have him recruited, or prepare to explain yourself to Xemnas."

Xigbar has the grace to look embarrassed and for a second, it really is like an average meeting with me reiterating orders. Then, Xemnas ruins it.

"It's okay, Uncle Xigbar," he calls from his seat with less than half his usual grandeur. (Xaldin chokes on the word _Uncle_.) "You don't have to explain yourself to me." He catches on quick, perhaps now very aware that Superior means him, and that grants him the authority to overrule me. "Let's talk about erm…the second point. Grandpa Vexen has a purpose."

"A _proposal_, and you can drop the Grandpa, it's completely unfounded and insolent." Nevertheless, Vexen dishes out his research notes, eager to elaborate on what he deems the crucial point of our meeting. "My proposal ties in with point three, the allergic reaction. I have been researching into it, naturally, as it is imperative that we find a cure. However, with Saïx's permission, I will also be doing an analysis of the affected, which means that the ah…incapacitation of the four shall continue. I am sure, however, that the research will prove useful and interesting for us all. All of my work is useful and interesting, of course, but this is an opportunity that we cannot miss, given my preliminary investigation suggests that we have a complex web of a Nobody _and_ Somebody to untangle…"

I look to my right. Lexaeus has slumped to lean against the armrest, his eyes on me. He looks bored out of his mind, and for the first time ever, I feel some sort of affinity to him. "Nee go," he mutters.

"What do you mean, a Nobody _and_ a Somebody?" asks Xigbar. "We're one or the other."

"They're a mix," corrects Vexen. "Put them into age order as they are now, youngest to oldest."

"Erm…" Xigbar starts, surveying the four. "Lexaeus is youngest, then Xemnas, Axel and Zexion."

"Very good. Now put them in their Somebody age order, oldest to youngest this time."

"Lexaeus, Xemnas, Axel, Zex—wait, it's the same."

Vexen nods, purposefully ignoring Zexion's comment of, "_We_ have an allergic reaction? Shouldn't you be taking us to the doctor rather than having a meeting about it? I hate this cult."

"The older the Somebody, the younger the reaction self is. It seems the shake tapped into the Somebody, most likely through the Nobody's memory. Despite corresponding to the Somebody, what you see before you is a child version of the _Nobody_. Not a two year old Aeleus, who actually existed. A two year old _Lexaeus_, who has – until now – been an impossibility."

Vexen, showing some rare mercy, lets us fall into silence for the information to sink in. It vaguely makes sense. Lea only determined the age; the rest is pure Axel. That explains his attitude towards me, how he competes for my attention by teasing me – that's Axel mentality, not Lea. And Zexion is undoubtedly a shadow of himself and not Ienzo (who, according to Xigbar, was a reserved youth with no inclination to talk or be a smartarse).

"Hey, kiddo, it's all right." Xigbar's voice makes me snap out of my thoughts. I spot him leaning across to wave at Xemnas. Fuck knows how Xigbar can feel comfortable calling his boss 'kiddo'. I'm compelled to ask, but Xemnas takes priority. He looks even more distraught.

"You said we're allergic. Do we have a disease? Are we going to _die_?"

Oh look, Xemnas' famous theatrics are back. I was wondering where they had gone.

"No, you're not going to die. We're just talking about a little mishap," Xigbar reassures. "Grown up stuff, don't worry."

"What are we allergic to?" Axel demands.

"Sunlight," Vexen answers. We all stare at him. "It's very common. The four of you are in this castle which, I'm sure you have noticed, is in perpetual darkness. We are an organisation of scientists. You're here to be cured by us. There is only so much I can do, though, if my resources are limited. I therefore would like to ask for a volunteer or two. Just a psychoanalysis, some harmless questions…"

Smooth, Vexen. Very smooth. I wager he sacrificed a lot of his time to devise our way forward. A part of me wants to ask how he is certain that sunlight fits the bill. What is to say that in their fabricated memories, none of the four have experienced the sun? There's so much unexplained – for Vexen clearly has a better understanding of the situation than the rest of us – but if I talk now, in front of the children, then that's our cover blown.

"I'll be a volunteer." Zexion shrugs. I glance at him, and the stony look on his face suggests that he's not buying the sunlight excuse.

"Excellent!" Vexen enthuses. "Anyone else? Axel? Supe—I mean, Xemnas?"

They shake their heads, horrified. "Nee go," Lexaeus murmurs, looking miserable.

"If you take Zexion, then Xigbar can concentrate fully on Rould," I say. I scour my clipboard, crossing things out and trying to squeeze in new notes. "I will reassign your missions. Xigbar and Xaldin, you are to recruit Rould and have him brought back to the Castle. Vexen, you will provide an analysis on the allergic reaction as well as a cure. I will continue to run the Castle on Xemnas' behalf, as well as taking responsibility for the children. Demyx, you will assume control of the Agrabah investigation, which I was initially assigned. You can see my previous reports to understand what is expected of you. I propose we convene in a week, at next Monday's meeting, with _all_ of these missions accomplished. Any questions or comments? Not from you," I add to Zexion.

"Nee go!" Lexaeus cries, sitting up straighter.

"_Meaningful_ comments?" I correct.

"Great idea. Let's reassess next Monday," says Xaldin. Demyx doesn't seem as thrilled by the deadline. I can't see why he's complaining – he's got the easiest job of all.

"_Mama_!" Lexaeus screams. I jump, and Xigbar laughs. "Nee go now!"

"Go?" Xaldin repeats. "Go where?"

Lexaeus screws up his face, wriggling. And though he's barely in sight and not my most favourite person, I instinctively glance down at Zexion. He's smiling.

"It means he needs the toilet," he says happily.

Oh. Fuck. Oh…you have got to be kidding me.

"Fuck!"

A portal, hurry! "Lexaeus, you better hold it in, or I'll—" I summon a doorway at his seat, leaping from my chair to Lexaeus'. I pull him into my arms and run through the portal, to a chorus of laughter and clapping.

**-x-**

The combination of tiredness and lack of cooperation puts me into a sombre mood for the late evening. I don't have enough energy for anger to last me twenty-four hours, and that gives me a good setup for using the end of the day to wind down.

I don't feel any sort of resentment towards Lexaeus. When he's not screaming, he's well behaved and to a degree, he has some respect for me. He didn't shit all over me as I legged it to the bathroom. That's the sign of a budding friendship.

Axel is the only one to interrupt my evening, armed with a forlorn expression that's supposed to make me melt. Xemnas has gone to sleep, and Lexaeus is playing Follow the Leader next door (where the leader is Zexion – some things simply don't change).

Axel trudges into my office at a snail's pace, a yellow bundle in his arms. I ignore him. I am halfway through my diary entry (Xemnas would want a record of what happens every day in his absence); that is far more important than seeing what's up with Axel.

He approaches my desk and sets down a folded note. "Vexen asked me to give this to you."

"Oh, right. Well, now you've given it to me. You can go now."

He does no such thing. Axel crawls under the table, practically sitting on my feet. His arm snakes round my left leg and he hugs me.

Eurgh.

"…Mama?" he tries. Not him too.

"I'm busy at the moment." I open Vexen's note.

_Saïx – A task on top of everything else you've been assigned. (I'm sure you won't mind.) Find out all you can about what the Superior was doing yesterday – including trivial things. Also, let me have a copy of Eight's report from yesterday. Vexen._

Fuck that. Why should I go to such lengths to help out Vexen, when he can't be bothered to talk face to face? Actually, it's not that he can't be bothered; it's more that he knows I'll snap. I wonder what the significance is to Axel's report. I think about digging it out, when Axel taps my knee and pushes the yellow bundle into my lap. It's his football.

I stare down at him. "What happened to it?"

"…I kicked it to Xaldin's head by accident." Axel sighs. I examine the was-football, and there's numerous holes in it, as if someone lost his temper and stabbed it to death with six lances.

"Are you here to ask for a new football?" I resume writing my report. This cutesy behaviour is all an act, a ploy to get a new toy. If I lean forwards, I can't see Axel's bright eyes staring from under the table. "You won't get one."

Axel hugs me tighter. I feel like choking. "Xaldin can do what you do. He gets spears out of _nowhere_. And you get that sword from nowhere."

"That's right. It's something we can all do. Us adults anyway."

"Hmm." Axel rests his chin on my leg. "How do you do it? Because sometimes I think…I don't know, that _I_ should be able to do something like it."

I stop writing. A shiver runs down my back as a dreadful thought occurs to me. The children all have fabricated memories. So why is Axel able to recall some truth?

"What do you mean?" Stay calm, Saïx. Vexen will have an explanation for sure.

"I don't know. I thought you could help me." Axel crawls back out and stands up, making a sweeping gesture with his hands. "I remember doing something like this. Is a weapon supposed to come out for me too?"

"No," I say quickly.

"Are you sure?" Axel continues. A smile works its way onto his face as he holds out his arms.

I can't feel anything. In fact, somewhere along the line, my brain has turned to mush and I've lost what remaining sanity I have left. I'm staring at two chakrams and the most devious smirk.

"…Then what are these?"

No way.

No. Fucking. Way.

* * *

_A/N: As always, comments and feedback are love. I seem to have inadvertently toned down the humour in favour of plot, but I hope you liked it anyway. Thanks for reading!_


	4. Aces and Eights

_Disclaimer: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_Warning: Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth)._

* * *

**COOKING MAMA**

**4: Aces and Eights**

* * *

The thing about chakrams is that they're not light. A chakram is a metallic web of pain, not only for its unfortunate target, but its wielder too. I mean, they're _heavy_. They're an awkward set of weapons. Two giant wheels can't possibly be lifted by a skinny five year old.

"Mama, you lied!" The skinny five year old lifts them, even spinning one idly round a finger. The weapons have shrunk in size to suit him. In retrospect, I will realise that this influence is proof that Axel is still a Nobody, but right now, I'm thinking something else.

Can anyone say _fucked_?

Axel flashes a smile. "You said only _adults_ could do it. Look at these, they're so cool! What are they? They're mine, right? What does everyone else have?" He gasps, jumping up and down and clapping a hand over his mouth. "Oh! What does _Xemnas_ have? What about Demyx? I bet their ones aren't as cool as these. Now I'll be able to fight off Xaldin if he attacks me again, and protect myself from those monsters."

Monsters?

Look, forget it and just think, Saïx. Ignore the swaying chakram, _think_.

Situation: an equipped and mischievous child, who isn't aware of the threat he poses and can't actually be disarmed. Or killed without consequence.

Solution: lock him away and worry about him later. Fuck yes.

"That's a great idea, Axel." I snap my diary shut, getting up. "Xemnas is going to be very envious of you. Let's go see him. I can't wait to see his face."

My voice is as monotonous as ever and still, Axel is convinced. Seriously, are all children this thick?

"Let's go see him now!" His chakrams whirr round and disappear (sans fire, I note – he hasn't discovered that at least). He grabs my sleeve. "I think he's going to cry, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I think he's going to be _so_ jealous, don't you?"

"Yes."

We leave the office, saunter round the corner, walk for a bit. Axel's so absorbed in his gleeful talk that he doesn't realise we've arrived at his bedroom. I seize him by the back of his collar and throw him inside, slamming the door shut and locking it.

"Hey! Mama, let me out…! You said we were going—"

"Just go to sleep!" I shout. I lean against the door and let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding.

"Let me out, let me out!"

I've sown a few seeds of hatred and trouble that I know I'll reap later. For now, though, I can rest easy without the fear of being sliced open by a chakram.

Let the shit hit the fan in one swift blow, I don't mind.

I'll worry about it later.

**-x-**

I don't sleep well that night. Can you expect me to? I'm too busy having visions of unruly children let loose with dangerous weapons and the destruction they leave in their wake. The tomahawk wielding baby is particularly frightening.

I wake up to some distant voices. My surroundings are blurry, but I can make out my desk and unfinished report. My neck aches when I straighten. A pen has stuck itself to my cheek.

I fell asleep in my office?

I _never_ fall asleep in my office…

"…Time?" I manage, rubbing my eyes. A searing pain shoots down my body as I sit up, most likely from the awkward way I slept. I look over my desk to locate the source of the murmuring. A second later, I groan. "Eurgh, not you."

Zexion gives me a surly look, his visible eye glowing with an impressive amount of malice. He's cross legged on the floor, playing with Lexaeus. They have some toy bricks between them, and Lexaeus appears to be building a tower while Zexion passes him the next brick.

"Six!" Lexaeus exclaims as he builds. "Seven! At!"

I don't know what's more painful: Lexaeus' voice or Zexion's stare. Either way, this isn't my idea of a good start to the morning. Why are they in my office to begin with? Did I ever give permission for the brats to convert my personal space – the only place I can stay sane – into a fricking _nursery_?

No, really, it is. Because when I stand up to make for the door, there's not an inch of the floor that's spared. A riot of confusion and brightness, from toy trucks to a cuddly zebra doll. There's scattered paper with pictures in every colour but orange; there's a children's tennis racket set propped against the wall with the ball missing. Heck, there's even a mini drawing table by the door, made from tacky red plastic. I nearly stack it because of a pile of colouring pencils rolling around. I stay on two feet by grabbing the doorknob, and due to this moment of disorientation, I find myself staring up at the stark white ceiling. How the flying fuck a crayon managed to mark the _ceiling_, I don't know.

"Nine! Ten! Ee…" Lexaeus pauses, confused. Then, he screams, "GAH!" Out comes an arm to swipe down the brick tower. It explodes in a flurry of colour, like a party popper. One of the blocks strikes me in the shin.

"_Eleven_, Lex," Zexion coaxes, ignoring me nursing my leg. "Why do you always do that?"

Zexion sounds exasperated, but happily so. In fact, when I turn to glare at him, I notice how content Zexion is with Lexaeus. I'm reminded of their adult selves (since it's common knowledge that only Lexaeus is exempt from Number Six's endless scorn), and am unsurprised that this closeness (read: conceit) continues on in their child forms.

"Time?" I say again. "And where have all these toys come from?" I bark, quite offended by the zebra doll in particular. "Get them out of my office."

"We've been awake for hours," Zexion answers. Lexaeus starts to rebuild his tower (I make a mental note to escape before he stacks the eleventh block). "It's nearly ten. I have had to babysit the others because you were too busy snoozing."

He scowls, and I'm only too glad to return the favour. "If you're that offended about having to babysit, you could have woken me up."

"That would have rather disturbed the peace, wouldn't it?" His reply is swift and brutal, arrogant and of course, correct. There is no limit to how much you can abhor Zexion. Trust me, I know.

I yank my door open and lo and behold, here comes another one. "Mama!" Xemnas races over faster than Xigbar can shoot. His hood flails behind him. Hair dishevelled, food stains round his mouth and having immense difficulty running in a straight line, he collides against my legs and I woefully note that never have I seen the Superior so graceless and downright embarrassing. (And that includes the time I walked in on him changing, when his coat zip was stuck and I had to cut some of his hair to free him.)

Xemnas looks up and speaks those fatal words. "Mama, look what I can do!"

I respond quicker this time. Oh yes I do. I summon a portal, lift him up by the waist and take him to his bedroom.

"Watch, okay?" says Xemnas, apparently unaffected by the fact that he's now parallel to the floor.

"Get in, shut up, and don't you dare summon those blades or so help me I will dangle you from the castle roof by your hair!" I slam the door shut before I can register his look of surprise.

Two down.

Why are their weapons materialising all of a sudden?

How long before Zexion and Lexaeus join the crew?

How long before I wake up and discover a chakram embedded in my skull?

Without much warning, I fall into a miserable state of mind. Don't get me wrong, I can handle any situation that gets given to me. I'm dependable, the one to rely on. It's just…strange, I suppose, to be doing my assigned missions without having anyone to report back to. I don't know if I'm doing it right or being efficient enough or working towards the desired goal.

Is it always so uncertain and undefined when you're at the top of the food chain?

There's me on one hand, who knows where he stands so long as he has his boss. On the other, there's Xemnas, who would truly be nothing were it not for the rest of us.

In any case, my sudden dip in mood stems from my thoughts about him. Not a full on, "I miss you Superior, come back now," but more a grudging acknowledgement that I have no hold or place in the Organisation, unless he's there in the head seat.

I hear child Xemnas banging on the locked door, calling my 'name'; absently, I think about where the real Xemnas could be right now, if he isn't laughing from behind his child façade. I don't get too far with my thoughts, because someone is tutting behind me.

Zexion appears to have found me. No doubt he walked all the way here. He eyes Xemnas' door, lifts an eyebrow at the muffled sobs and stares up at me. He's holding hands with a happy Lexaeus, giving a great impression of a pair of brothers with not a thimbleful of niceness between them. I'm quite disappointed that Lexaeus has turned to the dark side so soon.

"I almost forgot," Zexion says, in the voice of someone who hasn't forgotten, simply prefers to draw out the torture. "Vexen asked me to tell you, 'Oh, and Lexaeus too'. Whatever _that_ means," he mutters with a roll of his eyes. "More oppressive nonsense, I'm sure."

"Right," I grumble. I recall Vexen passed on a note yesterday. It's probable Xemnas drew on that too. "Anything else? You look like you want to say some more."

In all honesty, Zexion has a smile that suggests someone is about to feel the pain of a thousand knives. Namely, me. "Axel was crying this morning," he says, "all locked up in his room. I let him out."

**-x-**

Like how a moth is drawn to light and consequently its inevitable doom, so am I pulled along to the ominous echo of Axel's laughter. It's the sort of sound you'd associate with horror, a high pitched cackle that'd fit right in at Halloween Town.

So I thought my nursery – I mean, _office_ – was bad. It's nothing compared to the Grey Area. That's where Axel is, and in the middle of a football goal (comprised of two upended sofas) is Demyx.

"C'mon Axel, that was a lousy shot!"

Axel has a new football – bright red with a smiley face. There's also hundreds of dirt marks on the wall behind Demyx, and there's even a score chart taped up.

The bastards! Tape on the window is a big no-no. It's damaging and more importantly, this is the Grey Area. It's not a recreational room, most certainly not an indoor football pitch—

"Hey Saïx, good morning!" cries Demyx. Axel scores and cheers. At the mention of my name, he pulls a face and skulks over to stand behind his precious Number Nine.

"Demyx, what _are_ you doing?" I hiss, and pull his head close to mine so that Axel cannot hear. "He's _armed_ and dangerous. Why are you playing with him? You went out and bought these toys, didn't you? It's got dopey Demyx written all over it. I thought I had assigned you with Agrabah recon?"

Demyx looks unabashed. "I was looking after the kids because you hadn't woken up yet. They're all really happy and well behaved."

"Yeah, Demyx makes us happy," Axel chimes in. "Not like you."

"Besides, I've already done my recon," Demyx continues, so cheerful that I'm ready to throw up. "I left my report on your desk. Y-you didn't see it?"

Okay, suddenly Demyx is a much more pressing matter than Axel and his chakrams. That smug neophyte smile has to go.

"You're all done?"

"Yep! On your desk, as I said. Took me about two hours?"

He rocks on his heels, but my glare kills that innocent movement. "You completed a mission in two hours? A mission that would take a professional like Xaldin five whole days?"

He squirms, scratching his head. "Well…I guess I could improve. Rushed it a little, you know? And my report…er, maybe format it to be more presentable? I'll do that."

He's a lost cause. Even baby Lexaeus would bring better results.

"I suggest you get onto it, Nine," I tell him, if only to make him go away, and point to Axel. "As for this brat, he's done nothing to merit so many toys. Return them, tidy up the Area and for goodness sake, never play football in here again. Put Axel in his room, lock it and get on with what you've really been assigned."

"Or else what?" Axel challenges.

Say hello to Mama Saïx. By now, I'm sure you have realised that I have no power over the Organisation as Saïx the Luna Diviner. My claymore is rendered useless and ordinary, my temper now a joke, my authority gone with the Superior. But as _Mama_…well, that gives me some cards to play.

"Or else no dinner!"

Ha ha! Take that, you fuckers! They look distraught. They're cornered, after all.

"Right, right." Demyx relents, looking miserable. "Sorry, Axel buddy, but Saïx has the last word."

I relish the sight of Axel sniffing and stomping his feet. Then, I summon a portal and head to my next destination – Vexen's laboratory. I can't expect any cooperation from Vexen unless I bring him what he wants. Therefore, I'm armed with his requested reports and the week preceding them for back up.

And it's _still_ not enough to merit a nice greeting.

"Ahem! What time do you call this, Seven?" Vexen storms over and snatches the files from me. "I was always under the impression that you had impeccable timing."

"I overslept," I reply. "Do you have any idea how stressful it is to look after four children?"

"No idea," says Vexen. "I thought that was the point. Now. These are the reports I requested of you, correct?"

"Yes. Axel's is that one, Lexaeus' is the other. The Superior doesn't keep a diary, so I can't tell you what he was up to the day before he drank the shake."

"I did ask you to find out," says Vexen pointedly. "It's imperative that you do, as you will find out shortly. Let's look over Lexaeus' first."

_Lexaeus (23/5)_

_Zexion and I travelled to Twilight Town today. Zexion had picked up on the scent of a strong Nobody, and we intended to investigate. However, before we knew it, the Nobody had moved on. I'm still surprised that Zexion lost track of a scent. I wonder if he did it on purpose. In any case, our day proved fruitless, and we wandered around Sunset Terrace instead._

I'm appalled at the casual tone of Lexaeus' report, and how fearless he is in submitting a diary entry that basically says, "We had a lazy day and dossed around."

"Interesting, isn't it?" Vexen mistakes my contorted face as an expression of intrigue. "For one thing, that Zexion has been thwarted by a Nobody's scent is a first. That's beside the point, though. I actually want to draw your attention to how they spent their day. Quite average, wouldn't you say? Going out together, not really concentrating on the mission at hand nor going into a battle, just enjoying one another's company in a normal world."

Vexen slumps into his chair and starts to bash away at a keyboard. "…I want you to take that day and stretch it, so that it embodies six whole years. What do you get?" He doesn't give me time to answer. "You get child Zexion's life story. By interviewing child Zexion, I've narrowed down the influencing segment of adult Zexion's timeline to one day. Namely, the day they drank the shake. Are you following?"

I sit down on a chair diagonal to him. "What they did prior to drinking the shake…that determines their personality and background as a child."

"Exactly. Zexion and Lexaeus are very straightforward. They spent an entire day doing nothing, merely wandering around Twilight Town, a 'normal' environment. This memory warps and becomes a life story that makes sense to them as children. Those two know what a 'normal' environment is. I would assume that that's why Zexion is so opposed to the Organisation. To further my point, note that there is an orphanage at Sunset Terrace, and a clothing store called Maylis."

Vexen opens the second file. For a second, he appears harassed. "If we look at Axel's now, I'm sure there will be a degree of ah…concern."

_Axel (23/5)_

_I was instructed by the powers that be to sort out the Heartless level in TWTNW. I don't really see the point because those shadows can breed faster than I can kill. I actually believe fire is a catalyst for their breeding, and think it's unwise to send me on one of these missions again. Six hours of solid fighting and no visible progress seems a bit pointless. Plus I did it on an empty stomach, and now I feel ill._

I turn to Vexen, mentally stretching Axel's day to encompass his five year long life.

Oh shit.

"Axel spent his day here, in The World That Never Was. This world, along with Five and Six being in Twilight Town, makes the sunlight allergy believable. However, as Axel's reports prove…he, ah…what shall we say…"

"—brought out his weapons, which means that child Axel can do it too?" I finish for him. "A bit slow on the uptake, Vexen. If you actually leave this hole of a laboratory, you'll find that's old news. You could have warned me sooner."

I drop my head into my hands. It all makes sense. Axel spoke of monsters last night – he must have been referring to the Heartless he fought. Axel is used to Organisation procedures, because he has a stretched timeline that includes them; he also has an obsession for food because as an adult, he went starving.

"Since adult Axel spent much of his time alone, I suspect that child Axel is convinced that he grew up homeless, before being adopted by us. This deprived childhood would also explain his constant need for attention. Do you see why it's imperative you find out what the Superior was doing? Particularly with regards to whether he used his weapon or not."

"He didn't," I reply. "Xemnas was having a quiet day. He came over to me for idle chat on many occasions."

Wait, wait.

"Hmm." Vexen settles back in his chair, lifting an eyebrow. "You're calling _me_ slow on the uptake? Seven, that he spoke to you a lot is the very reason why as child Xemnas, he's so attached to you. You made up a lot of the Superior's day and as such, his stretched timeline has so much of you in it that he's registered you as his primary caregiver. As I keep saying, it's important you find out what Xemnas was up to on that day."

He shrugs, starting to type up a report of sorts. (I should note now that Vexen's diary entries are novel-length.) "I know that you're a busy man, but looking into the Superior's day may be worthwhile."

**-x-**

It's either a flaw in Vexen's theory, or a massive assumption on my part. I'm starting to think it's the latter.

Look, it was a sensible assumption to make. I simply erred on the side of caution. Earlier, when Xemnas said, "Look what I can do," I assumed he was talking about his blades. But that can't be the case if as an adult, he didn't use them and hence, put them into the child's timeline.

Right?

Some time in the afternoon, now that I have spent hours working and mulling over the situation, I unlock Xemnas' bedroom door.

I stick my head round. Needless to say, I have a claymore ready, should circumstances take a turn for the worst. Xemnas doesn't really move, though. He remains outstretched on his bed, snivelling and hiccupping while he hugs a pillow. (Never misses an opportunity to be dramatic, does he, our Xemnas?)

"Xemnas," I start.

He sits up, hair at odd angles and some pasted across his wet face. His eyes are red and swollen, and when he looks at me, he stares like someone who's just been rescued from a nightmare.

"Mama!" he cries, leaping over and hugging me, even though that action has been banned. _If only adult Xemnas was this forgiving_, I think. "Why did you lock me up? Did I do something bad?"

"Ugh, I just overreacted," I answer. "Stop crying, will you? It embarrasses me just to witness it."

I hold the door open with a foot, wondering how to start. You have to understand that I'm still reeling from Vexen's belated revelation. It's been established that because I spent so much time with the Superior, it made his child counterpart attached to me. That much I can understand. Beyond that, though?

For example, if the Superior thinks of me as just another underling – which I know he does – then why doesn't this show up in child Xemnas' character? Or does this inconsistency imply that Xemnas does actually hold me in higher regard than I think?

In any case, if child Xemnas is a reflection of his adult self, then I should be able to decipher him to give me insight, at least for that one day before drinking the shake.

"You said you wanted to show me something," I say. "Come on, stop crying."

I'm on tenterhooks here – are you? He's vulnerable. Xemnas will unwittingly reveal his secrets. I bet he didn't expect his fooling around with that revitalising shake would lead to this. I will analyse everything child Xemnas comes out with.

Xemnas nods, wiping his eyes with a sleeve. He pulls back from me. "I…I can make my tongue touch my nose."

What.

He does exactly that. He sticks out his tongue and up it curls. He even goes cross eyed.

How the fuck am I supposed to analyse that?

"What? That's…that's gross!"

Xemnas bursts into giggles, taking delight in my disgust. His tears and recollection of being locked up disappear by magic and he skips around, trying to take hold of my hand. Eurgh. "What are you going to do now? Can I come too? I can help make dinner, if you want."

"I'll let you know when I want a disaster, thank you very much. Don't you have colouring to do or something?"

"Yes, of course you can!" he exclaims, pushing past me. "I left it all in the play room. Let's go…!"

"Oy!" I tear after him. (Play room? That's my office!) "I didn't say I _want_ to do colouring. Why don't you tidy up the play room rather than make more mess—?"

I stalk after him, surprised at how quick Xemnas is at walking, despite his height. He runs down Naught's Skyway with an embarrassing "Whee!" and makes a beeline for my office. I'm almost impressed at how he knows his way around, but I suspect that adult Xemnas walked this way before, putting that knowledge into the stretched timeline.

I pass Xaldin in the corridor, and give him a nod in greeting. He's shifting along a white board of some sort. Perhaps a ceiling panel?

"Saïx, just the person," Xaldin says. He waves me over. I don't deviate from my route.

"Can it wait?" I call back to him.

"It's urgent," protests Xaldin. It's not like him to be imploring, but that's definitely a hint of pleading in his voice.

"Well, this is too. Xemnas is about to decimate my office."

Xemnas drags me along, pulling me at such an angle that it's a miracle I don't topple over. I can hear Xaldin calling after me, determined to keep up. The white board screeches as he hauls it. I realise that its corners are rounded, but other than that, I don't have much time to note anything else.

"Hey guys!" Xemnas cries in a startling resemblance to Demyx. He runs into my office and skids across the floor, sliding to sit at that tacky drawing table. Zexion is sat in my desk chair with his feet not even touching the floor, each elbow on an armrest, fingers knitted together. He looks every inch a supervillain in the middle of concocting an evil scheme. Lexaeus is still playing with the toy bricks, biting them now before stacking.

"Three and four!"

"Sit down, Mama, come do colouring," says Xemnas.

Someone taps my shoulder. "Saïx. You really need to look at this." Xaldin doesn't just sound concerned, he looks it too.

"What's the matter?" I ask him. "And what's that? That's not part of the ceiling, is it?"

Xaldin winces, offering me an apprehensive look that makes him appear to say, "Don't scream now."

"Five! Six!"

Let's pause for a moment.

You know that feeling you get in your gut, when there are less steps than you think and your foot comes crashing through the air with a lurch? Or when you spend hours writing an answer to something, finish it and reread the question to find out you've done it completely wrong? It's a nauseating sensation, as if someone's cut a door in you and everything just falls out.

That's the sort of thing I experience as Xaldin turns the board round. Except it's not a board, it's a giant playing card. And plastered on it – in it? – is Xigbar.

I stare. There's nothing I can say. How am I supposed to respond to seeing a two-dimensional Xigbar, frozen in time? He looks like a fly squashed against a window, an eternal look of astonishment on his wrinkled face.

"Seven! At!" cries Lexaeus.

Xemnas gives admiring sigh, propping up his head with a hand. "Ooh. You're such a good drawer, Mr Xaldin!"

"Huh? This isn't a drawing!" Xaldin splutters, and his loud voice jolts me back to the grim reality. "This _is_ Xigbar! He's been turned into a card, a fucking playing card!"

"Are you sure?" Xemnas gets up and walks around to inspect the other side of the card. I don't know what he's expecting to see, but I'm quite inclined to do the same. "How did he get in there? What happens if he can't breathe?"

Xaldin scratches the side of his head. "Luxord lost his temper with us," he murmurs, although I need no explanation. "He very nearly got me too. We need to tackle him another way, Saïx. Either you or Demyx need to do it, and it doesn't take a genius to work out who's the smarter of you both. You have to somehow convince Luxord to join the Organisation _and_ turn Xigbar back to normal. With him out of the picture, that means there's only four of us left – you, me, Vexen and Demyx. We're dropping like flies. How long before the children take over?"

"Who says we haven't already started?" Zexion quips flatly. "Can I keep that, by the way?" He points to Xigbar. "I'd rather like to throw darts at it."

"Saïx," Xaldin calls, and his voice is deafening with its urgency. "Some sort of direction, please? An order? Change in plan? You're the one in charge here!"

But Xaldin sounds far away. Heck, my own voice sounds a million miles away.

"Nine! Ten!"

"I can't. I give up. I can't…this." I think that's what I say. I slump – more so collapse – to the floor, right by the drawing table. A red colouring pencil finds its way to my hand and I start doodling. Xemnas claps his hands and yells in excitement. Hooray, Mama's joining in.

It's oddly therapeutic. I'll just sit here and colour. This is much nicer. Maybe if I colour enough, the problems will all go away.

"Ee…bleh, bla. _GAH_!"

Pain, glorious pain. Keep it coming, Lexaeus. Beat me while I'm down, why don't you.

Remember when I said that I can deal with any situation that gets given to me?

Yeah. I lied.

* * *

_A/N: So Saïx reaches breaking point - will he recover? As always, a million thank yous to the lovely people who submitted reviews and comments. You guys keep me inspired and motivated to write this crackfic. Thanks so much!_

_I did mention before that Luxord would have no part in this fic, but he seems to have wormed his way in for the sake of plot. Hopefully he'll up the fic's quality, even if he doesn't provide the humour as such. Thanks for reading! Comments are very welcome :)_


	5. Hot Mama

_Disclaimer: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_Warning: Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth)._

* * *

**COOKING MAMA**

**5: Hot Mama**

* * *

"Ugh…shut…_up_! …Ah! Ow!"

I wake up to my alarm and fall out of bed in a tangle of sheets. I say 'wake up', but to be honest with you, I'm not sure if I was ever asleep in the first place. I drag myself to the shower and groan at how much my head is killing me.

Just to be clear, it's not a hangover. It's a valiant fight on my part to plough on and keep going. When half of your team are out of action and your already packed schedule has to accommodate this, you find yourself really scraping the barrel for reasons to wake up.

So I had a breakdown yesterday. I spent most of the evening at that drawing table, channelling my desperation into a red colouring pencil, sending it round and round so that it depicted a maze of squiggles on the page. I also burned dinner, screamed at anyone who tried to talk to me and apparently tried to get Xigbar out of that card by stamping on it repeatedly. (I don't remember that last one. Maybe I _do_ have a hangover.)

Is that someone who has given up completely?

Maybe. But no, I'm not defeated yet. For one thing, I said we'd stick it out for a week, and I'm not going to go back on my word. Sure, I could just have Vexen cure Xemnas and have his adult self whip Luxord into line, but that would be admitting I can't take command, and that doesn't reflect well on me at all.

So here I am the following morning, feeling and looking like shit after nearly pulling an all-nighter. I've had about two hours of sleep, and fucking hell it hurts. The pain doesn't come unrewarded, however. I managed to draw up a plan last night, in light of Luxord's refusal and Xigbar's incapacitation. Speaking of Xigbar, I also managed to convince Vexen to lock our Freeshooter away in the lab.

"I don't want that in my lab, it's the stuff of nightmares!" Vexen had protested. But he agreed that as the lab was child-free, it only made sense. (You see, a few minutes after we discovered Xigbar was a playing card, Zexion was already musing out loud about what would happen if he cut the card up.)

I start with Number Five, who's about as cranky as I am. "Good morning, Lexaeus. Shut the fuck up please." I scoop him up into my arms and summon a portal to the kitchen. His cries turn into gurgles as I rock him against my hip. See, I'm getting the hang of this now. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Food, food," Lexaeus replies, trying to chew my coat hood.

"Your contributions to conversations are as useful as ever." I put him in his booster seat and spend a few minutes trying to work out how to secure the silly thing to the chair. I change the tablecloth, set up eight places and opt for a simple breakfast of cheese toast and tea. I throw in some sliced fruit for good measure, leave the tea mugs to brew and wolf down my own slice of toast while clearing up.

One by one, Organisation members traipse into the dining room, mumbling greetings with half-lidded eyes.

"Saïx," Xaldin calls, taking a seat and leaning backwards to peer into the kitchen. "Put a pot of sugar on the table as well, will you?"

I do as he says, ever so pleased with myself because not a single snide remark has escaped me today (I don't count that mild one towards Lexaeus, because it's not like he understood it). "Sure. Here you go."

Xaldin coughs in what's meant to be a surreptitious plea for my attention. "And uh…you're holding up? You pretty much cracked under the pressure yesterday…"

"Well, that was yesterday," I respond. "Now eat up. Your toast is getting cold."

"Perhaps an emergency meeting would be sensible—"

"Toast," I cut in. "Cold."

Xaldin stares at me, perplexed. He appears to want to say more, but I busy myself with wiping Lexaeus' mouth.

"Are you all right, Saïx? You do look pretty washed out." Demyx chews on his toast, head tilted in thought. I ignore him too. The best way to curb my annoyance, I always find, is to feign deafness and hope people get the message.

"Mama's upset because of what happened to Uncle Xigbar," says Xemnas, ever so sagely.

"We're all upset about it," says Vexen, who's made a rare appearance to our dining room. "Where 'upset' means 'grossly inconvenienced' of course. I detest having him stored in my lab. Demyx has a point, though. You look absolutely awful, Saïx."

"Thanks. Finish your breakfast, all of you. Dishes and cutlery in the sink as usual. Eat your fruit with a fork please, Axel. No books at the table." I confiscate the item from Zexion and drop it out of a window I pass. "See you all in a moment."

I respond to Lexaeus' quiet murmurs of protest by picking him up and settling him on my hip. I leave the dining room, aware that the table falls silent, then becomes rife with whispers and gossip.

_What's up with Saïx,_ they're probably asking one another. _He's decidedly calm. Didn't he have a breakdown? Or did we not try hard enough?_

Well, tough shit, all of you. I'm like one of those wobbling clowns you can get at toy stores. I don't know what they're called, but every time you knock them down, they spring right up again. I will have order, no matter how much I have to fight for it. Order will prevail in this Castle, if it's the last thing I do.

I stand in my usual spot in the Grey Area (I always know where it is because that part of the floor is slightly off-colour and worn). "Since you're here, Lexaeus, you may as well have your mission brief now."

_**Lexaeus:**__ Pair up with Xaldin and cooperate with him. Preferably learn to count beyond eleven without the risk of causing someone brain damage. You may chew up this brief if you wish._

"This mine?" he asks, shaking it and hitting the side of my head with it. He wriggles, and I assume he wants to get down. I leave him on the sofa.

And then I wait. I sense familiarity and am soothed by it. Standing here with a clipboard in hand, assigning missions. This is what I'm supposed to be doing.

Vexen is the first to leave the dining room. He passes the Grey Area, does a double take and gives me an odd look. He catches on, though, and sets an example for others by starting a queue.

"No emergency meeting?" he asks, as I pass him his mission brief.

_**Vexen: **__Continue your research as discussed. Keep guard of Xigbar. Study him to understand the mechanics of time manipulation; a weakness will be useful. Report any findings to me and wait for my go ahead before relaying them to Demyx. I have attached copies of relevant reports about Luxord for your perusal._

_**Xaldin: **__See to the backlog of my reports. Look after Lexaeus. There are some toys to keep him entertained while you work. You may find using my office to be more convenient. Ensure that you supervise Lexaeus at all times, especially when he is eating. Any sign of wriggling or discomfort means he needs to pee. He also enjoys being rocked; it is a good way to stop him from crying._

"What?" Xaldin exclaims. His hair practically stands on end. "I'm not rocking anything! In any case, why should I be doing your paperwork?"

Demyx cranes his neck to peer round Xaldin's shoulder. "Did you get a bad mission?"

"It's my paperwork, or my mission. I'll happily swap." I hold up mine, and Xaldin only needs to read the first line before he storms away, seizing Lexaeus by the scruff of his neck.

_**Demyx: **__Go to Twilight Town and reconcile with Luxord on behalf of the Organisation. Do not attempt to recruit him; focus on convincing him to return Xigbar to something vaguely three-dimensional. Do not ask for a mission change._

"Oh…I can't negotiate," Demyx whines, skulking away. "I'm going to come back as a playing card too, I just know it."

_**Zexion: **__Assist Xaldin in any way you can. You will most likely end up babysitting Lexaeus for the day. Xigbar is off limits._

"Why should I help?" says Zexion, eyeing his mission brief with enough contempt to shame Vexen.

"Because you're part of the Organisation, that's why. You insist you want nothing to do with us, but you happily eat the food I give and use this Castle's resources. That's a double standard, and your real self would never have stood for that. Now hop to it."

That leaves me with two members. Xemnas is at the front of the queue, convinced that receiving a mission brief is about as exciting and rewarding as getting free candy. Axel is behind him, and when he catches me looking at him, he smiles and summons a chakram, spinning it round his finger.

"Here are your missions, you two." And as soon as I hand them over, I feel my soul leave my body.

_**Xemnas: **__Accompany Saïx today._

_**Axel: **__Accompany Saïx today._

_**Saïx: **__Team up with Axel and Xemnas to continue Agrabah recon. Points of interest include population, level of activity, trade and commodities, culture and climate._

"Who's Sa…ix?" asks Xemnas.

"Are you joking? That's me, you little shit. Since we're one down now with Xigbar incapacitated, it means I have to double up on missions. We'll be going to Agrabah together. It has the potential to be my worst idea to date, but here's hoping the two of you will surprise me."

"Is Agrabah outside? Like, beyond this Castle I mean." Axel's eyes are wide with enthrallment. "Is it like a day trip?"

"Exactly. Well, no. We'll be assessing the place. Gathering information for future reference, if you like." I usher them out of the Grey Area. "I have to grab a few things before I go, so why don't we meet up outside my office in five minutes?"

They agree and run off. "A day trip, how exciting! I'm going to pack my bag. I wonder if Mama will make packed lunches for us?" I overhear Xemnas say. That he is so geared up about a recon mission – admittedly in a very wrong way – is a sight to behold. If only adult Xemnas were as obliging.

**-x-**

My office isn't situated next door to Xemnas' as a mark of my authority. It's so that Xemnas doesn't have to walk far when he needs me. I don't know, he's a lazy bastard, but not quite lazy enough to live by portal. Actually, he rarely portals around the Castle. He's more of a walker. He's mentioned before how he treats our headquarters like a map of his memories and thoughts, the sort of things you'd never want to rush or give anything but your undivided attention. Weird, I know.

Anyway, the reason why I'm telling you this is because, while I ransack Xemnas' office for clues about his last day, I can hear an awful racket next door, comprised of screaming and shouting. It's along the lines of:

"Hey, that's mine!"

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

Rinse and repeat.

I slump into Xemnas' seat and leaf through his papers desperately, reading the report headings out loud so that I hear my voice instead of the ruckus next door. I realise he did absolutely no work on that day. Work I left for him to read and approve is all…well, unread and unapproved. I lean forwards to scrutinise the papers, holding my breath for reasons unknown.

Fucking hell, there are doodles down the margin.

I turn pages and pages, as if his paperwork is something as serious as a child's flipbook. There are doodles of fruit, a fence, a teabag, a button, a hairbrush, even a fricking hot air balloon, complete with people inside it, one of whom has an X on his face. And if that's not disturbing enough, I also notice that every time the word 'Saïx' comes up on the page, the hole in the 'a' has been shaded in.

I raise my eyebrows, unsure whether to rip the reports to shreds and kill them or just let my forehead meet the desk. I mean, _honestly_. His boredom and incessant doodling obviously inspired the carefree colouring freak next door, but why was he bored in the first place? What, is our mission to gain a heart we can call our own – is that suddenly not interesting or rewarding enough for our Superior? Why is he no longer motivated? Does something else have his attention now?

"Ow! That hurt!" There's a high pitched cry, and then there's full on wailing. I can't ignore it any longer. I storm out of Xemnas' office into my own.

"He bust a hole in my picture!" is the first thing Xemnas screams at me. His face is wet with tears while Axel looks ecstatic. At the other end of the office, Xaldin is slumped at my table as Lexaeus toddles around, singing very off key. Zexion is perched on the end of the desk, surveying the commotion like a pyromaniac watching a house go up in flames.

"Five minutes!" I shout. "All I asked for was five fucking minutes so that I could do my own things. Was it too much to ask? Was I really being so unreasonable? Should I have only asked for three?"

When you're too busy shouting at all four children and wondering if Xaldin is unmoving because he's dead, you tend to have little concern for anything else. When you're preoccupied with glaring and fuming and hollering for just a sprig of normality, you tend to assume that what your foot is resting on is the floor. Not a tennis ball.

I slip. I land with an almighty crash between Axel and Xemnas, effectively breaking up their fight. Fuck, that hurt.

"Mama! Are you okay?" they both cry. Xemnas smothers me with a hug, managing to hold me for a few seconds before I regain the sense to push him away.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." I get up, ignore Zexion's too-delighted face and take a few calming breaths.

"Mama, he bust a hole in my picture with that wheelie thing, look." Xemnas holds up a sheet of paper. Sure enough, there's a chakram point sized gash in it.

"That's because you stole that zebra," Axel retorts, "which is _so_ mine."

"It's _mine_!" Xemnas screeches. I cover my ears and yell, "Shut up, the pair of you!" I snatch up that fucking zebra plushie from Xemnas and give it a murderous look. Evil, evil thing. I throw it out the window. (There's probably enough stuff at the castle grounds to form a junkyard, considering how often I do this.)

"There we go. The zebra's dead," I say flatly, summoning a portal. "End of. Xemnas, your picture has a hole in it because it's shit and deserves one. Axel, if I see you take those chakrams out again, I will drag you round to smell every single food dish in Agrabah without letting you eat any of it. Now, Agrabah, _please_."

They promptly burst into tears.

**-x-**

Said tears disappear at the snap of a finger when we reach Agrabah. It's incredible, really. They're either so stupid or so forgiving – and I'm starting to class those two things as the same – that rather than hating me for before, they now think I'm the greatest person in the world.

"Wow…this place is amazing!" Axel exclaims. "Who lives there? It's massive! Can we go visit? Can we go eat something? I'm so hungry."

"Do up your hood please, Axel, you're allergic to sunlight. Apparently," I utter. I bend down to do up Xemnas', catching his fascinated eyes. The coat doesn't conceal their faces (I suppose their unawareness of utilising the darkness is the cause for this), but saying that it protects them from the sun will let them move freely, and make it easier for me to keep tabs on them.

Agrabah isn't my most favourite world. I suppose when you're sent to a place tens of times to make a note of weather patterns, you start to bear a grudge. If you take Agrabah at face value – like how Xemnas and Axel are doing – it's not too bad a place. The streets are rampant with activity and noise, promising you that there's never a dull moment. Your eyes water easily at the strong spices that waft through the dusty air. The locals are a bit in-your-face, but they have to be if they want to sell their produce. On the flipside, Xigbar's recon into Agrabah reveals a seedier, shadier side. You don't see it unless you know it's there. I'm talking about brothels, illegal dealings and the slave trade, the kind of things that get swept under any major city's carpet.

Whenever Xigbar did recon, he had to justify his reasons for getting directly involved in the world – talking to locals, asking for clarifications, that sort of inane behaviour. He said that information was more accurate that way and brought faster results. True, I guess, but that's not how _I_ work. To me, recon is done from afar, where you are an observer, impartial and invisible, away from the crowd and attention.

The 'usual' is impossible, however, when you have two unusually beautiful children and a mass of street vendors with a quota to meet.

"Oh, what a cute child you have there! He must be starved!" A dumpy woman leans so far across, her stall wobbles from the weight. "How about some fresh fish?"

"Hello there! Judging by your travelling cloaks, you must be from afar! Take a look at this fine jewellery. Save money on your souvenirs! Complementary bracelet for every necklace you buy!" A man beckons us over to his stall, which glitters in the sun.

"They're so pretty," Xemnas sighs, to which I reply, "Yeah, and they're also a load of tat, so let's keep moving."

I seize Xemnas' hand and push past some people so that I can get to Axel. Predictably, he's at a food stand while a vendor takes full advantage of him.

"You skinny thing, you must be so hungry!"

"Yeah I am!" says Axel. "What do you have?"

The shop vendor is a burly man with a keen eye for weeding out potential customers. He spots me, works out that I am the one who needs to be convinced, and holds up a giant watermelon. "Agrabah's hot, isn't it? This will keep you and your children cool. I'll even give you a special offer – a whole melon at the cost of half! That's an _extra_ half a melon. What do you say, kid?"

"Yes!" shouts Axel. "We can have it, can't we, Mama?"

"It's a deal, then," says the vendor, smiling at me. "I'll cut it up into edible pieces."

I groan. In that small space of time, I have a lot to be insulted about. One – does my opinion not matter any more? Two – I _know_ that's an extra half a melon, I can do basic arithmetic, you overweight nut. And three – how can that vendor hear Axel call me Mama and _actually_ believe it? Do these kids really look like they're from me? Do I look the maternal type? Isn't he freaked out by the sight of us, such that he'd rather sell his watermelons to someone else?

"It's twenty Munny," says Xemnas. "I'll pay for it."

"All right." But then Xemnas cups his hands and waits. "Oh, stupid me," I grumble. "You mean _I_ pay for it and you hand it over."

We get our watermelon in a paper bag. I hand Xemnas and Axel a slice each, and they both jump up and down, thrilled. I don't understand. It's only a watermelon. Xemnas ends up eating strands of his hair as well.

"Oh, what adorable children you have!" a woman shrieks.

"This again," I mutter to myself. (They're not feeling my pain here, are they?)

The woman darts round her stall, pinching Xemnas' cheeks. "What a gem! You're so beautiful! But if you want shade from the sun, might I recommend one of my hand woven scarves rather than that stuffy hood?"

Oh no, not the colourfulness. Xemnas squeals as he runs his fingers through the curtain of scarves, at a loss for which one to have. Axel wipes his mouth on one of the scarves, but the woman is blissfully unaware.

"Axel," I warn him, and the woman shrieks again.

"Did you say Axel? It's fate! I have a son named Axel too!"

"Sure you do," I mutter. "Do you have a son called Zexion too? More to the point, do you want one?"

She throws up tens of scarves, hitting me in the face with them. "You must buy some, it's destiny, I tell you!"

"Can I have one?" Xemnas pleads.

"Can I have one too?" cries Axel. He throws his watermelon so that it rolls along the sand and goes under the stall.

"Two headscarves for your gorgeous children. With a ten percent discount, that will be four hundred Munny."

"Four hundred Munny, that's ridiculously expensive," I shout back. "I'm not paying that much for a load of—"

"Well, how about I throw in an extra scarf for free? You can choose one for yourself from the sale section, what do you say?"

"I don't _want_ a fucking scarf for myself! I don't want anything from your stall! I just…oh for fuck's sake, fine!" I pay up to silence the woman and two whiny children and seize the scarves from her.

"You sweethearts be careful," the woman calls after us. "It's dangerous to be so beautiful round these parts!"

I push my way down the marketplace. "Is that three scarves we have there?"

"Yeah!" says Axel, wrapping one round his head and another round his waist. "She said we could have a third one for free, didn't she? I'll wear it."

Xemnas covers his head in a multicoloured scarf and spins around. Axel dances a few steps, and anyone who can see him immediately aahs. For a second of insanity, I can't get over how stupid yet ridiculously endearing the pair of them look. It's the heat getting to me. I soon snap out of it. "Come on, you two. Let's find a quiet spot."

We weave through the crowd, determinedly ignoring the shouts at us. With the colourful scarves and watermelon, we look like a trio of tourists who will surely buy anything. (I only pause to have a go at one middle aged lady running a facial and massage service, who called, "Assured to give you sun-kissed, radiant skin! Eliminate your body of all blemishes! Sir, you there, Sir? How about a miracle facial to rid your face of that horrendous scar? You won't have to look like a walking treasure map any more!" What a bitch. I could show her a thing or two about eliminating one's body; I'd eliminate far more than her blemishes.)

I know we're at the end of the marketplace when I don't need to shout in order to hear my own voice. I make sure I'm being tailed by two and locate a corner building with an easy route to the top.

"Mama, I don't like heights," Xemnas protests, so I settle for a half wall curving into a side street.

"Okay, sit here. I need a break." I'm surprised at how quickly my legs give way. I collapse, sending up a cloud of dust. "Xemnas, pass me a slice of melon."

To be fair, once I was appointed second-in-command, I was pulled out of missions; therefore, it's natural for me to be a bit thrown by recon. Still, it's going well and everything's fine.

Famous last words.

"For our recon report, I can safely make a note of how pushy street vendors are. Business must be worse than usual. I can feed myself," I add. I jerk my head away as Xemnas presses a cool melon to my mouth. He stares at me intensely, a striking resemblance to his adult form.

"Today is the _best_ day ever!" he proclaims, and Axel whoops in agreement.

"Oh, shut up," I say through a mouthful. "We're not here to have fun. We're supposed to be gathering information. Consider our trip here as an investigation, pulling up advice for other Organisation members. What would you advise them?"

"Bring a fan," Xemnas pants, tugging at his coat. "It's baking."

I make observations of the heat and its effect on the city. I only realise now my hair has stuck to the sides of my face, and Xemnas is pressing his forehead to the watermelon bag; Axel, on the other hand, is completely unruffled. I shut my eyes and let the sun beat down on me. It's tempting to just nod off right here and catch up on my sleep. But wait, that would mean that I'm getting comfortable, that things are looking _up_, and that's just wrong.

"A zebra!" Xemnas suddenly shouts. "A real one!"

I start, pushing him off my lap (how did he get there?). "Huh? That's a _camel_, Xemnas," I answer. I blink, staring down the street. "…Well actually, that's more than a camel; that's a parade of sorts. And it's heading right this way."

We can't move quick enough. Back into the crowd we go. It's a wedding parade, judging by the lip locked couple atop an elephant. The noise is deafening. Animal grunts, fanfares, cheers and the sounding of drums. There's excited chatter and furious outbursts as I shove people out of the way. Through all that racket, I hear, "Mama, wait for me!" as clear as anything. It's weird. You can amplify the noise, throw in a dozen more drums and another trumpeting elephant, and I can tell you for certain that Xemnas' voice is all I will hear.

"Okay, got you." I grab Xemnas' hand. Axel is running through the crowd alongside the fire dancers, shouting in time with the beat, pulling me along.

"They're blowing fire, look!" cries Axel. "How are they doing that?"

It's too tight a gap to squeeze through, and I can't stay connected to them both. I have to let go, and I have to fall forwards if it means I stay on two feet. I collide against someone, and Axel's laughing, and I flinch from the heat of a torrent of fire, and I get pushed aside, and I smell ashes and smoke, and I taste something so bitter and acrid in my mouth, and my back burns as I'm struck there, and I realise far too late that my right hand is empty.

I turn, screaming in my head for Xemnas to be right behind me, but he isn't. He's actually gone. The crowd isn't thinning, and Axel runs and jumps into my arms when I shout something. I can't hear my own voice, I might have lost that too, I can't think straight, I can only think of the stomach churning realisation that I've lost the Superior, in a desert city rumoured to thrive on slavery.

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_A/N: Half the time, I don't know what I'm writing or where I'm heading with this fic. In any case, the Agrabah scene sets me up nicely to introduce another character for next chapter. Once again, thank you so much to the wonderful people who reviewed my last chapter. It really means a lot and I'm gutted that I can't reply to anonymous reviewers (though I suppose that's the point of being anonymous) - I can only hope you're still following this fic so that you can read my thanks :)_

_Next chapter will see Saïx's attempt to find and rescue Xemnas, with the help of someone (No one?). Thanks for reading, comments are appreciated :D_


	6. ScentSations

_**Disclaimer: **Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_**Warning: **Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth)._

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**COOKING MAMA**

**6: Scent-Sations**

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Let's recap. My mission in life – I use that term loosely – is to regain my heart and overthrow Xemnas, preferably by means of sharp and shiny objects. But shh. He's not meant to know that second half. He's supposed to be oblivious to my traitorous side, and for the years I've been in the Organisation – so far, so good.

As I stand here, Xemnas-less and dare I say, victorious, I realise that I've driven myself into a corner. Yes, Xemnas is gone forever, but it's not without the…I don't know, _bang_ of a climax I have been anticipating since turning against him. I mean, there isn't much dignity in the phrase, "Oh, the Organisation collapsed because I kicked the Superior while he was down and buried him somewhere in Agrabah," is there? And if I am to have even a shred of triumph as I finally overthrow Xemnas…well, that means—

"We have to find him, Axel. He's gone missing and we can't have that."

Axel slides down from my arms, displaying little to no concern. "Maybe he found something colourful," he says.

"Excuse me?" I start nudging random people for attention. "I've lost my child. He was right here, and now he's gone."

A young woman gives me a sympathetic look. "…I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Well I'd rather like him back," I bark. "Look, you don't understand. He's not any child, the implications are colossal if he stays missing! Xemnas, answer me!"

I go round in circles, alternating between ducking and standing on tiptoe. Where the fuck is he? Come on, I'm his 'Mama'! He can't go ten minutes without me. What's so colourful and alluring that he'd willingly leave my side? It doesn't make sense. Unless…

"He's probably been kidnapped. Stay here with me, Axel." I take off the sash round his waist, tying one end to his wrist and the other to mine.

"We could just leave him," Axel remarks, his eyes on the parade that's gradually pulling away. "He was quite annoying."

"I can't just leave him, he's a hundred times more important than you!"

"That's not very nice!" Axel huffs, and when he crosses his arms, he yanks on the sash that connects us and I grunt at the discomfort.

A man behind me makes a quiet comment about favouritism and bad parenting. There's a chorus of tutting and people around me shake their heads, so I spit at them, "Mind your own fucking business."

I drag Axel out of the crowd, hoping that I'll run into Xemnas along the way. So much for doubling up on work. All it does is make me fail at both of them. I search the spot where I last saw Xemnas and hazard a guess at where he might have gone. There's too many options, from stalls and shops to narrow alleyways and sandy steps leading to the roofs of Agrabah. In any case, if Xemnas _had_ been kidnapped in that time I wasn't watching him, he wouldn't have had a say in where to go.

I purse my lips and tap my foot in thought, only coming up with one answer. I could just mow down the whole of Agrabah, demolishing everything in my way until I find him. It's so tempting and doable. Well, except it's not really the impartial approach I like to adopt and adult Xemnas wouldn't be pleased if I submitted a report that said, "I investigated the place as requested, but I steamrolled the existence out of it in the process."

"Xemnas?" I call. I check behind wooden boards, inside empty crates and underneath the stalls. Axel trails behind me with a scowl. The minutes pass and as they do, the frustration of my own carelessness begins to nag me. This time spent hemming and hawing could be the difference in preventing Xemnas from being whisked off to another city in a slave cart.

"Mama, I'm bored." Axel tugs my sleeve. "And I'm tired."

"Tough luck. We can't go home until we find Xemnas. Xemnas!" I holler. "Answer me!"

"Excuse me?"

I turn to see an old woman with more hair on her face than I have on my head. "You said you had lost a child? Is it this one?"

"What? Who the fuck is that? No that's not my child, of course it isn't! He looks exactly like this!" – I shake Axel at her – "but shorter and darker and…I don't know, weirder! It's imperative that I find him! The repercussions are beyond measure if I don't get him back! Without him, I'll truly have no meaning whatsoever!"

Wait, what? That's not my reason for needing Xemnas.

I stop for breath, and to my great un-surprise, the locals have dispersed and left me to it. The occasional sympathetic glance suggests that missing children and foreigners having a breakdown aren't actually that extraordinary in Agrabah.

"Mama, I'm bored!"

"Shut up." I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I count to ten in my head. Calm. I remember calm, don't I? This isn't a bad situation. Well, it is, but I eat bad situations for breakfast. Xemnas made me second-in-command for a reason.

Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten!

I open my eyes to find Axel staring at me. "I'm—"

"Bored? I had no idea. You should be clearer on these things."

"I'm. _Bored_!" he screeches, stamping his feet. I'm _this_ close to clocking him unconscious. Or myself – both sound appealing.

"All right, all right! Fucking hell, it was sarcasm. Now look what you've done, you've made me lose my composure. I have to start over again."

"Start what again? Go to sleep standing up?" he replies. I ignore him, count to ten and think through my dilemma in a logical, practical way.

"Okay." I reopen my eyes. "This is what we're going to do. Child snatchers have taken Xemnas. Luckily, I still have a child left. You're going to be bait, Axel."

He looks so thrilled, it throws me for a second. "I just need you to sit there and attract their attention. Then I'll jump out from my hiding spot and claymore them to within an inch of their life, and beat Xemnas' whereabouts out of them. It's genius."

"Yeah, genius!" Axel repeats. "Oh, oh! Can I beat them too?"

"Course you can," I answer. "Okay, sit there and pull a cute pout. No actually, stop that, you look constipated. Just smile." He does that, and things are looking up. Several of the locals shake their heads at me, and it's a good job I'm otherwise preoccupied, or else I would've sliced and diced them by now. As I am about to take up a hiding spot, I hear a voice by my ear.

"That won't work."

I turn round and come face to face with someone quite androgynous, who I smell before I actually see. He's dressed like a local, in loose linen trousers and a vest, barefoot and ever so slightly tanned. I know he's from someplace else, though, going by the shock of pink-brown hair and the slanted eyes a fraction too steely.

"They only ever take one from a family, never two," says Androgynous. I lean towards him being a man, I decide, noting his tallness and the lack of curves. "They cut ties so that the child in question eventually forgets where he is from. Not only that, the child has to be of a certain calibre. Explosive red hair, a scraggly body and a blemished face won't impress the buyers."

"Mama, he's being horrible to me! Hit him!"

You know, I very nearly do. For one thing, I find blemish/scar digs to be cheap and totally unnecessary. But what really irritates me is the way Androgynous smiles when he finds out that I'm 'Mama' to the kids. It's funny, is it? What a prick. I mean, honestly. He ought to stop by the nearest oasis and check out that mane of fluffy hair and those awfully long lashes. Gender confused? It's not just me, you crazy—

—Deep breath! I will be _calm_.

Axel skulks to my side and hugs me round the waist, which would've contributed to my calming down, were it not for that fact that my shoulder gets dislocated in the process. That bloody headscarf round our wrists! But yes, I will not lose my temper. Not yet, anyway.

"You're quite informed on the slave trade here," I remark, seizing Axel's hood in order to keep him still. "I could use your help. Do you have any idea where I can find the Su…I mean, my other child?"

"It depends on who took him," Androgynous answers. He smiles and waves at some shop vendors, apparently a well known face to Agrabah. "There are numerous gangs who prey on unattended children for unspeakable purposes. The least ruthless of these would probably be selling your child to be trained up as a household servant. West Agrabah is a good place to start. I'm Liam, by the way."

"Saïx," I offer grudgingly. "And thanks, I appreciate it." I stare at Liam for a few moments, furrowing my eyebrows. Something about him doesn't sit right with me. His voice, quite deep, elegant and yet so flat, is the most obvious suggestion of him being a Nobody. Well, that and the fact that he seems to moult petals; petals, I note, from flowers that wouldn't be able to grow in Agrabah heat.

_But_. And here, common sense taps me on the shoulder and my observations come to a skidding halt. Nobodies _can't_ be born into a world like Agrabah, they get thrown into a realm between Light and Darkness. There, they wait for Xemnas to pick them up and explain who they aren't. (Or they just fob off the Organisation, if their name is Luxord. Bastard.) In any case, I can use Androgynous' help for now – Nobody or not – and if he tries anything funny, I'll just have to kill him.

"Do you have reasons for wanting to help?" I ask him, and he shrugs.

"I saw you arrive and tailed you, if only for a little while. You're like me." He confirms my suspicions. "You speak as if you're from a family. Are you recruiting?"

Let me just remind you here that I'm not stupid. Androgynous Pink Haired Liam Who Smiles Like Xigbar reeks of suspicion as much as he does of flowers. He obviously understands dark corridors, and I can only come to the conclusion that he got to Agrabah by means of one. If that isn't worrying, I don't know what is. I was a gibbering mess when I was born, and would never have mastered the ropes of being a Nobody were it not for Xemnas' intervention. That Liam can accept his new state of Nobody-ness without any trouble at all implies that his Somebody was a right bastard, and we already have Number Six to fill the Organisation's quota of two-faced schemers who count fucking up people's minds as a hobby.

"No, we're not recruiting. West Agrabah, you say?" We set off, and I deliberately pull ahead of Liam so that I can whisper to Axel, "If anyone tries to nab you or if you feel threatened in any way, you can use those chakrams."

"Yes!" Axel hisses.

For the next hour or so, we follow Liam through the streets of Agrabah. They are narrower, darker and framed by tall buildings with their windows blacked out. Once or twice, Liam makes a comment like, "Those tracks there are from the wheels of a slave cart," or "It's not abnormal to see abandoned children's belongings in the gutter," and he sounds like a morbid tour guide. I call for Xemnas, keeping a close eye on Axel all the while.

"What's your child like?" asks Liam. We pass a dingy house and he pushes open a door barely on its hinges. There are a row of children there, looking miserable and tortured.

"In a nutshell, he's incredibly stupid and incredibly important."

"Is he cute?"

"Yes, he's fucking adorable," I moan.

Liam frowns. "Then he ought to be with this lot." He leans on the door and points to the row of kids, all of whom have flawless skin, big eyes and silky hair. "They're going to be trained into higher ranking servants. Dancers, poets, musicians. Ugly children get carted out of the city to do manual labour."

"Do you want any?" asks a middle-aged man, from the corner of the room. I study each child's face, but no avail. I shake my head.

"No?" says Liam. "Perhaps he was never kidnapped in the first place."

"This is a waste of time," I mutter. "It'll take me forever to find him, by which time it'll be too late. I need to track him, or sniff him out, or somehow minimise the area of search, I don't know…wait, wait, wait."

Everyone – even that man in the corner – leans in with baited breath. "That's it!" I exclaim. "_Sniff_ him out!"

**-x-**

In comparison to the World That Never Was, the fiasco in Agrabah is more of a party. I portal into my office, and Xaldin is trawling through my paperwork, looking quite distressed. Lexaeus is bawling, tugging on Xaldin's coat and screaming, "Ag wee go _now_!" Zexion is buried in a stack of books, flagging up certain pages with bookmarks that were previously file copies of my reports, talking on the phone at the same time.

"Hello, I wonder if you can help me. My name is Zexion. I have been adopted, and would like to be _un_dopted. Am I right in thinking you can take me into your orphanage? No? How about a prison? Is there one near you?"

I dash forwards to end the call, slipping on a frisbee as I do so. "Lovely idea of babysitting, Xaldin. I'm going to take Zexion for a while, and leave Axel with you."

"What?" he shouts back. Lexaeus screams louder, toddling over to me. He comes first. I'm not having piss all over my office. I leg it to the toilets, throw Lexaeus onto one and then bark at him to hurry up.

"You were saying?" says Xaldin, after I return.

"I need to borrow Zexion. It's the Superior. He's gone missing—"

"_Missing_? You lost the Superior? That's a level of failure even Nine would struggle to beat." Xaldin gets up. "Just mow down Agrabah until you find him."

"No, it'll work out if I borrow Zexion. I'll leave Axel here with you."

Axel latches onto me like a particularly heavy parasite. "No, I wanna come along."

"Do I get a say in this?" says Zexion. He shuts his book and stands up.

"No, you don't. It's a matter of urgency that you come with me to Agrabah and smell out Xemnas with that nose of yours. It's second nature to you; you would have used it on the day before the reaction hit. I know you can do it. How else can you follow me around to moan and complain? You can detect Nobodies."

And then, Zexion drops the hammer I know was eventually going to hit my head. "Why should I help? I hate you and I hate this Organisation."

"Maybe you should bribe him?" Axel whispers.

"What, with knowledge?" Zexion spits, hearing him. "It's not knowledge if it's lies, is it? Something is very wrong with this Organisation. You're all so dysfunctional that I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Allergic to sunlight? Please! I spoke to Vexen today and asked him what type my allergy to the sun was, and was it polymorphous light eruption? He said _yes, most definitely_. That's a reaction common in _adult females_. Also, I flicked through many of your reports, and I get mentioned in them. Sometimes, I apparently pen a report myself, which I don't remember. You've been drugging me, and it's despicable. Now you expect me to help you?"

"Yes you'll help, because it's your duty," I argue. "I can't waste time here, not when Xemnas is still missing. Track him down for me, and then afterwards, I promise, I'll explain everything to you."

"That's what you said last time."

"Well, we'll sit down tomorrow and I'll tell the truth. I swear on…erm…" I try to think up of something remotely precious to me. It's pretty difficult. "…Well, I swear on my life. Cross my heart and hope to die. I'll even throw in a handwritten apology slating myself for all my faults, which you can frame or burn, whatever takes your fancy. Will you help me find Xemnas now?"

He stares, and I stare back, waiting for him to relent and look away. "Poster size," he demands, sticking his ratty nose higher in the air.

"Fine, fine, poster size!"

**-x-**

I push Zexion and Axel into Agrabah, and Liam scratches the back of his head at the new addition.

"So you're going to tackle your situation by bringing another child? What if he gets kidnapped too?"

"Trust me, no one in their right mind would kidnap this little horror." I give Zexion a meaningful poke, prompting another scowl.

"To be honest, he's not much better looking than this one," continues Liam, pointing to Axel (who fumes in silence). "How many more children do you have?"

"Just one more," I answer. I'm not going to let my guard down around my androgynous helper. I've spent too much time with Xigbar to know a falsely cheery persona when I see one. "I was telling the truth about recruiting, by the way. Your assistance here won't necessarily grant you a place with us. I'll mention you to the Superior when he's back from…business. Right, you." I pinch Zexion's nose, earning myself an elbow to the ribs. "Find Xemnas."

Zexion leads the way, compelled only by that poster size apology I'm going to have a _great_ time scrawling tonight (no better way to wind down after a hard day than tearing apart your dignity by your own admission).

I study Liam as he tags along, still moulting those petals. If he really _is_ a Nobody, then his element is what, flowers? Pollen? What abilities does that give him? He's like an oversized air freshener, or a walking greenhouse…that's not going to accomplish much, unless he relies on making people sneeze to death.

I'm so busy thinking about Liam and how new additions to the Organisation, starting from Nine, are progressively getting weirder and weirder, that I only realise a minute too late that we've come to a halt. Zexion crosses his arms, toeing a wooden door.

"In here?" I ask him. He nods and holds out his hand. "Yeah, I know," I grumble, "I'll write it out once this episode is over. Xemnas!"

I burst through the door, shoulder first, taking out my claymore in case there's a need for violence. (I rather hope there is; this pent up, highly undeserved stress needs some release.) The first thing we all do though, Liam included, is cover our noses.

"It stinks!" Axel exclaims.

"It's a barn, that's why." Liam wrinkles his nose as he shifts some hay with a foot. "It's where they keep animals before transporting them to markets outside of the city."

Some camels are looking rather forlorn, apparently understanding the gravity of his words, but a collection of cages, just past these animals, catches my eye. Each cell houses a child, and it's difficult to decide who looks the unhappiest. At the far end is a silver haired child playing with the zip of his coat. Aha.

I can't tell you that I felt relieved when finding him, as I was never really worried in the first place. However, it is a bit _annoying_ when you stumble across your Superior, who should be distraught at being locked in a tiny cage and eternally grateful that his loyal subordinate came to rescue him, and discover that actually, he's having the time of his life.

"They're going to take me to the circus, the circus, the circus!" he sings. "They said they have elephants and camels and sword swallowers and jugglers. Are you coming too?"

"Xemnas. Did they specify whether you'd be going to one, or _performing_ in one?" I press my forehead against cool metal bars of the cage, exasperated. Xemnas furrows his eyebrows. Bloody hell, he's actually thinking about it. "Never mind. Back up against one side of that cage, I'm breaking it."

The sound of smashing iron signifies mission completion. Xemnas crawls out, somehow managing to remain dignified with straw in his hair and mud all over his coat. He sticks out his tongue at Axel and Zexion, before casting a curious look at Liam. I quickly tie up that loose end.

"We're not recruiting at the moment. I apologise if I have misled you in any way," I tell him. It's partially true. We are looking for members, but I can't exactly invite him to the Organisation, not while its leader is barely a metre tall and is er…picking petals off the ground and throwing them about like confetti.

"Stop that!" I hiss. I seize his arm and summon a portal back home, dragging Axel along as well. There should be one more kid, shouldn't there?

"You _want_ to join this family? You must be really desperate. I'd gladly give up my spot for you. In fact, I might go and sit in one of those cages and get carted off to the circus—"

"Thank you, Zexion." I nab his T shirt collar and push the brat through the portal. I close the corridor, and turn just in time to see a smile cut across Liam's face like a knife wound. A giant scythe materialises in his right hand, and he swings it down to put the remaining children out of their misery.

**-x-**

I start comfort eating that evening. After serving up dinner (during which no one dared to ask me how my day went), I ransack the cupboards for more food, settling on yoghurt, bananas, iced tea, three chocolate bars and a cheesecake. I lug them all to my office. Well, why not? The room doubles as a fucking play room; I might as well use it for dining too.

Since Lexaeus is asleep in my wheelie chair, I have to make do with the drawing table. Xemnas is doodling as usual (I dread to think why he is hogging the blue colouring pencil) and Axel is racking his brains over a puzzle.

Me? I'm trawling through the latest reports (with zingy lemon cheesecake to numb the pain of reading Demyx's error-ridden, sans-useful-information one), writing my own diary entry and doing that bloody apology to Zexion. As promised, it's poster sized and covering all aspects of my flawed personality. It looks like a brainstorm, the sort of thing my Somebody would have done in a classroom, headed _I apologise for being so…_

"Oh, you're not nasty, Mama!" Xemnas leans over my arm, scrutinising my work.

"No?" I say through a mouthful of banana.

"You're nice!"

"Would a nice person do this?" I snatch up one of his colouring pencils and scribble over his picture. He bursts into tears, throwing himself onto the ugly thing and attempting to salvage it. I return to my report, trying to detail the day's events as best as I can. Things didn't go as smooth as I hoped they would, but I did manage to churn out a lot of new information. First hand experience in child slavery, first hand experience in hard selling, a potential recruit to the Organisation…

"It's just a shame that Luxord isn't keen like Liam. He doesn't give a flying fuck about the Organisation or his non-existence; how is anyone supposed to convince him?" I dip the banana into yoghurt and when Axel sets his puzzle aside and outstretches his hands, I pass it to him without thinking twice about it. "According to this report, Demyx approached Luxord with the intention of fulfilling his mission requirements, but ultimately got sidetracked playing drinking games."

"You could talk to him?" Axel suggests. "Do we get to go to another world?"

Xemnas sniffs, and his tears disappear just like that. He sure gets over things fast. "We can ask Luxord nicely. Maybe Demyx didn't say 'please'."

"Well, with all due respect, Xemnas, I'm not taking you to recruit someone when you look like that."

Xemnas folds his arms, indignant. He picks at his pyjama top, huffing. "I can change, you know!"

I return his scowl with double the effect. "Not your fucking pyjamas, _you_ in general! Listen, I understand the pair of you feel happy and satisfied after a 'fun' day out, but you don't have to help me out with Luxord's recruitment. At the moment, he's the least of my worries. It's not like he's going to go anywhere. Besides, tomorrow is Thursday, which is spring cleaning day, so you're going to be safe at home, helping me out with that."

There's nothing dangerous about a cleaning spree. What are they going to do, suffocate themselves with a rag? My weekly cleanup will be a breeze in comparison to today.

I survey the two at the drawing table, their tiny hands fighting over a chocolate bar as they squabble. I loosen up at the light hearted banter I am strangely becoming used to, and resume my work between them, hunched over that minute table. It's almost relaxing, spending the evening with innocent minds who think you really matter and can do no wrong. The gripe to being the Organisation's second-in-command, though, is that you should never, _ever_ relax, because on the next day, Lexaeus suffocates on a rag.

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_**A/N: **Thank you for reading! Sorry with a late update this time round, I've been doing another fic alongside this one. (If an Isa/Lea and Saixel fic is your cup of tea, please do check it out.) In case this chapter doesn't do a good job in spelling it out, Liam is actually Marluxia. I went with his Somebody name being Rauliam, since I don't like the sound of 'Lumaria' (as his Somebody is commonly assumed to have been called); after a while, it sounds like the name of an opera or lighting company. _

_Anyway, hope you enjoyed, and please leave feedback or any comments. Thanks for reading!_


	7. Lions and Tigers and Cows

_**Disclaimer**__: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_**Warning**__: Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth)._

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**COOKING MAMA**

**7: Lions and Tigers and Cows**

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Today's breakfast is scrambled tofu, topped with onions, sliced peppers and a dash of soy sauce; there's also wholegrain toast, bacon, eggs and shitloads of ketchup if anyone wants it. Beverage ranges from fruit juice (mango, orange or apple) to steaming mugs of tea and coffee.

"Mama, you're such a good cook," comments Axel, sighing while propping up his chin with a hand. He doesn't look too far off a princess on a balcony, with that stupidly dreamy expression.

"It all looks so yummy," Xemnas enthuses, and he stands on tip toe to get a better view.

"Yummy," Lexaeus repeats from his highchair, smacking his lips and waving his fat fists.

Zexion rolls his eyes. "I think the presentation is found wanting. It all appears very slapdash and unappetising, even if it might actually taste good. Take this bread basket's misalignment, for example…"

I wait patiently (fine, impatiently) as the four natter away, huddled round the kitchen island. I don't suppose I cut much of a menacing figure with a stripy apron and my hair pinned back, which will explain why everyone is oblivious to my dissatisfied face.

Xemnas eventually picks up on it, though. "You look angry!" he cries (because _that's_ really unusual).

"Angry? No, not at all. I'm just a little confused. Let me explain." I lean forwards on the counter, like a pissed off teacher surveying a classroom for a culprit. "Today's breakfast is right here, kept warm on a hotplate and looking – if I say so myself – ever so mouth-watering. It's two feet from my nose. So _why_ can I smell a mixture of hay, camel, cherry blossom and other unpleasantries?"

"Hmm…" Axel says in thought. Xemnas crosses his arms, mystified.

I scream at them before they can formulate a response. "It's _you_! You all stink! I can smell you four more than I can smell my cooking, and that's filthy, it's disgusting, it's…ugh, there aren't words to describe it. Granted, it's disgraceful on my part to have forgotten that children don't magically get clean, but why none of you even complained about your dirtiness just baffles me. Now taking a fucking shower if you want breakfast!"

I chase them to the bathrooms, fetching and carrying Lexaeus at arm's length. "Right, all of you get into a cubicle each and wash off that dirt. Take a sponge and one of those bathrobes there; don't any of you dare come back smelling of anything that isn't shower gel." I slam the cubicle doors shut. Zexion just gives me an evil look which doesn't quite do the job of intimidating me when he's stark naked and holding a canary yellow flannel.

"I don't wanna shower, I'm hungry!" Axel hollers from inside.

"You just want to stay dirty," remarks Xemnas, and he starts to sing. (I just _knew_ that Xemnas was the sing-in-the-shower sort of person.)

"As for you, Lexaeus, you get a bath." I get the taps running, throw in half a bottle of bubble bath liquid – I'm not taking any chances – and sit back on my heels. I've been awake for two hours, _that's it_, and I'm already desperate to go to bed. "Kids, I'm going to wash Lexaeus and then go have breakfast. You three can use the portal I'll leave here for you, have breakfast and then meet me in the Grey Area. Understand?"

"Yes," they chime. I think Axel might actually be crying. Not that I feel sorry for him more than I feel sorry for myself for having to put up with these filthy brats and their antics. What have I ever done to deserve this?

Don't answer that.

Though have I ever mentioned how wonderful Lexaeus is? No? Well, he is. In fact, when no one else is around I am tempted to call him Lovely Lexaeus because he listens and aims to please and understands that I have a million other things to do, and knows that picking fights or screaming isn't considerate.

"Bub wuh!" he says, pointing at the soap suds. "Mama, bub wuh!"

"Yes, bub wuhs," I repeat for the fifth time. "And this is just the start of my cleaning spree. We're going to de-germ this filthy castle. Fuck knows why it has to have a white colour scheme, but I shan't complain any more as I'm low enough on energy as it is."

After washing him, I fit on Lexaeus' boots and then hoist him onto my hip. It's scary how used I'm becoming to this. One day, I might unconsciously attempt the same with adult Lexaeus – which is wrong on so many levels – and then he'll introduce a fist to my face.

For now though, Lexaeus gurgles in appreciation and waves his arms at the new height ("Bub wuh, bub wuh, whoo!"), while my back clicks from the strain of his weight and I bang my head on a cabinet corner, because parenting is _just so fair_.

**-x-**

At twenty past nine, I meet up with Xaldin, Vexen, Demyx and the hellish offspring.

"We've been waiting for our mission briefs for nearly an hour, Saïx," says Vexen.

"And during that hour, four brats went from reeking of animal dung to the more socially acceptable scent of dewberry. I don't slack off, not unlike you three. Now, I've prepared your missions for today." I only realise I am shifting my weight from foot to foot, rocking Lexaeus to sleep, because Demyx and Xaldin's eyes are moving left and right to follow me. There's an awkward silence.

"Would you rather Lexaeus cries all the time?" I leap to my own defence, because no one else is going to.

"No!" Xaldin says quickly. "It's just bizarre. I almost want to say it suits you."

"I think a claymore speared through your gut might suit you," I reply through my teeth. "Take your mission briefs."

Demyx takes and hands them round to Xaldin and Vexen. "In a nutshell," I inform them, "a repeat of yesterday, minus the following grave errors. Demyx, you are supposed to reconcile with Luxord, not put the Organisation into a six-digit debt. Sort it out. Vexen, you can only work with what you have until Demyx acquires more information; I don't want a report that's a complaint in disguise. Xaldin," I conclude, "you put my paperwork into date order correctly, except it should be the most recent at the top of the pile. In addition, reports should be separated with staples or clips, and not stacked at ninety degrees to the previous. Finally, for general information, the reconnaissance mission in Agrabah and subsequent recruitment of Liam will be on hold while we are few on numbers."

"Shame. We could use an extra pair of hands," Demyx remarks.

"Yes, we could. That's why you've been assigned the mission of making amends with Luxord, so that you can eventually recruit him. Now get on with it."

The three skulk away and I move onto the next lot. Axel and Xemnas are fighting on the sofa Zexion is trying to read on. Lexaeus squeals and gurgles, desperate to join in. He winds up poking me in the eye. Fuck you, Lexaeus, I take back everything nice I had ever said about you. You're the worst of them all.

Feel sorry for me yet? I had no idea that babysitting came under the job description for second in command. Maybe next time a job opportunity rises, I'll actually read the fine print.

"You two! Stop arguing, will you? Don't you ever give it a rest?"

"But it's _mine_!" Axel screeches, hugging something orange.

"I found it first, so it's _mine_!" Xemnas screams back. I push the two apart, snatch the plushie in question and prepare to chuck it out the nearest window.

Wait, what? A plushie?

I stop mid-throw and examine the damn thing. Yep, it's a plushie, a lion one to be precise, with a fluffy mane and doleful plastic eyes. I thought I got rid of these blasted cuddly dolls? There must be a plushie nest here somewhere; they have to be breeding. I've had enough of this plushie palaver.

"No, Mama!" Axel cries. "Don't do it!"

Oh but I do. I throw the plushie to the floor and murder it with my claymore, no delay. It explodes in a cloud of fluff and the stitches shriek and ping off. Axel and Xemnas witness the execution with their eyes wide and, if you're the latter, promptly collapse to the floor and cry over it.

"See what you did? Your arguing killed this lion." I rummage under the coffee table and retrieve another plushie. It's a bear this time – not as nice looking as the was-lion, but it has a cute face and smooth, warm fur. It's oh-so-huggable. Excellent bribery material. "If you two get into another fight, this one will die next. However, if you both cooperate and listen to me, the bear will live. On top of that, if you do your cleaning duties, I'll buy you both gigantic plushies to unleash your horrific actions of hugging and snuggling onto, so that I may be spared."

"Wow, okay!" they chorus. Xemnas kicks the was-lion under the sofa and stands straight, attentive.

So far, so good. "Here's the agenda. This room – the Grey Area – needs to be vacuumed and various surfaces need to be dusted and cleaned. Zexion, this will be your task."

Our Number Six lowers his book so that his eye is visible. Then, slowly, like a predator making its move, he puts his volume aside and from behind him, retrieves a rolled up piece of paper. He unfurls it, a medieval executioner reading off a list of crimes (hey, it's not too inaccurate an analogy), and begins to read, "I apologise for being rude, offensive, moody, uptight like I have a claymore lodged up my arse, impatient, arguably psychotic, cold, nasty, a workaholic, a sometimes-alcoholic, irritable, a killjoy, et cetera, et cetera." He rolls it back up again. "I really doubt I will be taking orders from someone who readily admits to all this. No, I have been helpful enough. I think I will sit here and read all day."

"Fine," I snap. (Half of those flaws were added by him, the little brat!) "You can do that then. Don't help, don't eat."

"Yeah, you can starve," Axel jeers. Zexion resumes reading, and he deliberately lifts up that volume so that we can see the cover. It's actually a cookbook.

Bastard.

**-x-**

With the promise of a giant plushie for good behaviour, the day's cleaning goes pretty smoothly. Unsurprisingly enough, it's me doing ninety per cent of the work, but Xemnas and Axel have ceased their arguments at least. The two are now vacuuming the Grey Area, dusting down the surfaces and changing the cushion covers; in the meantime, Lexaeus runs around the dining room with a duster and rag, not quite de-germing the place.

I don't understand the excitement of a cuddly toy. I mean, it's just a bit of conveniently shaped fabric with soulless eyes and nothing within but fluff. It's a poor imitation of life that serves no purpose except to be used and abused by its owner, and oh fuck that sounds just like me. Maybe if I stab myself, I'll suddenly discover I have seams and stuffing.

Calm down, Saïx. You're just stressing. You can cope.

"Sure I can. I only have to check up on Xaldin's handiwork on my reports, recruit Luxord and somehow convince him to fix up Xigbar, babysit three brats and a living nightmare, submit a recruitment proposal for that creep Liam, cook three meals a day, prepare mission briefs, do the laundry—"

"You know, talking to yourself is the first sign of madness," says the living nightmare, from his cushy spot on the sofa. He turns the page of his cookbook, careful to watch me.

"Yeah? Then go scribble it down on my list of flaws, I don't care. I'd like to see you do my job. You all take me for granted when what I give to the Organisation is invaluable and unmatched. I'm not expendable like you lot. If it wasn't for me, the Organisation wouldn't function at all!" I kick the laundry basket shut for emphasis, draping fresh new uniforms over my arm. "And what do I get for it? Sod all."

"If I were to do your job and run this freaky cult, I'd cut out the self-pitying rants." Zexion sits up, convinced that this sneer on my face is an indication that I want to chat with him. "I'd save hours a day. Not only that, I'd have the rationality and sense left in me to run a quick check on Lexaeus."

"What?"

He carries on staring. "You will notice that the Castle is abruptly devoid of someone shouting _bub wuh_. This is because a few moments ago, I left my spot here to see Lexaeus. I suffocated him with his rag. I did him a favour by granting him death, so that he may escape this oppressive faction."

I nearly drop my laundry to the floor. "You're joking."

"No," he replies. "My sense of humour is as absent as yours."

Zexion – at whatever age – hates me. That much is fact. We came to blows within the first month of me joining the Organisation, and that friction just intensified when Seven became the new Two. Playing a cruel trick on me is not beyond his capabilities.

Then again, neither is killing Lexaeus.

I glance out of the Grey Area without looking too conspicuous or defeated. There certainly isn't a toddler running around the table and chairs any more. And yep, the shouting is missing. I turn back to Zexion, because the answer to this has to be in that stoic expression. If only I knew how to crack it…!

"It was quick, don't worry," he remarks, waving a hand as though he's royalty.

Slowly, I set the coats aside and call, "…Lexaeus?"

No answer. "Hey, Lexaeus?" I try again. I walk a few steps and peer across the corridor into the dining room. Sure enough, Lexaeus is sprawled out under a chair and there's a rag over his face.

"Is he dead?" Xemnas switches off the vacuum cleaner and scratches his head. "I've never been to a funeral before."

"We should have a cremation," Axel says, sounding quite serious. I ought to know. Numerous times, adult Axel has hosted cremations with no prerequisite for the body being dead, if you catch my drift.

"Out of the way you two." I can't tell you if I approach Lexaeus like he's a vicious lion ready to leap out and attack, or if I dash over to his side straightaway, my safety be damned. I knock the chair aside and take in his helpless form.

"Is he dead?" Xemnas asks again, peering through the gaps of his fingers.

"I bloody well hope not," I answer, but already, my mind is running off to think about the consequences. If Lexaeus _is_ dead, then that means one less child to worry about yet in the long term, that's one crucial Organisation member gone with not enough integrity to fill an eggcup. "Don't be dead," I half pray, half threaten. I pull off the dusty rag.

Where there's supposed a gormless, bulging eyes and drooling mouth kind of face…there isn't. In fact, Lexaeus' head is turned to the side and he's snoring peacefully.

"Hey, he's sleeping," remarks Axel, fulfilling his duty as King of Obvious.

"He's _sleeping_," I say through my teeth. Anger and humiliation wage a battle inside of me to determine my mood, because I've been fooled, I've been completely mindfucked.

I turn to look at Zexion, and it is only because of my exhaustion that I don't switch into berserk mode and pummel him there and then. He clutches his sides, doubled over in laughter as though it's painful. Let me tell you now that when Zexion laughs, it is far more excruciating than anything I have ever experienced. And I've been through a lot.

**-x-**

Here's a list of things that wake me up in the middle of the night:

1) the sudden realisation that I have forgotten to start a certain report;

2) the sudden realisation that I have forgotten to finish a certain report;

3) the sudden realisation that I have forgotten to chase someone for a certain report;

4) the urge to shudder and jump away when a snivelling, blubbering Superior tugs at my pyjama sleeve and something wet lands on my face.

"Eurgh, _yuk_!" I sit up in bed and shove him back. "That better not have been snot or else you're really going to pay for it!"

Xemnas sits cross legged, now hugging that massive plushie I bought him for his help today. (It's a big fat cow with…you know, cow spots, and he's named it Stripy. Yet another good indicator of our boss' level of sanity.) And he was helpful, to some extent. So he squabbled with Axel, dropped a plate, tripped over the vacuum cable and fell over and put hand prints on the newly cleaned windowpanes. Xemnas also set out everyone's fresh uniforms, helped with taking off old bedding and tidied up the Playroom That Used To Be Saïx's Office.

Don't think for a minute that he's growing on me. It's the exhaustion talking, I swear.

"Mama, there's something horrible in my room." He sniffs and wipes his face, and he peers at me from behind Stripy with abnormally huge eyes.

"Well, there's something horrible in my room too. It's called Xemnas."

He gasps in horror, slapping a hand over his mouth, and I almost find his theatrics funny. But when you're woken from your sleep at three in the morning, and by _snot_ for that matter and for a completely inane reason, it's only normal to start searching for humour in an attempt to curb the growing frustration.

"That was quite rude, wasn't it?" he exclaims. "Look, Mama, there's something really scary in my room. I can't sleep at all."

"Well, neither can I, thanks to you." I sink back into the pillows, desperate to go back to my dreams of paperwork. Xemnas only tugs harder. "There's…rustling sounds," he mutters. "There's something there."

"Yeah?" I pull my arm away from his sticky hands, wondering if Xemnas is just experiencing late trauma from the kidnapping incident. I know I am. "What's the worst thing it could possibly be, Sir—I mean, Xemnas?"

He plays with his hair and in the dark, I can see him blinking rapidly and looking up, like how adult Xemnas always does when thinking. "Um…a monster, I guess."

"Uh huh. What kind of one?"

"A massive one!" Xemnas cries, stretching his arms to demonstrate the size, as if I have just asked him to tell me a story rather than his concerns. "It's invisible."

"That's convenient."

"A-and it can only be seen in a mirror." He sniffs and whimpers, hugging Stripy. "It's too scary in my room. Can I sleep here?"

"All right, Xemnas, here's what we'll do. Imagine that monster." I push my hair out of my eyes to see better. "Now make it visible, ten times more frightening and twenty times more pissed off. Slap an X on its face and ta da!" I pat his head and slink back under the covers. "Seriously, you're safer in your room. Bugger off."

Did you know that 'bugger off' means 'crawl into bed and sleep here with me'?

No, I didn't either.

"Wha—? Oh for fuck's sake!" I throw off the sheets but he sticks to me instead, like barnacle on the bottom of a ship. His eyes go wide and pleading, and in a moment of utter madness, they're almost enough to convince me to relent. "Out, Xemnas!"

"I won't make a sound!" he screams, a contradiction if I ever heard one. His voice makes me feel as if I have just stuck my head in a bell and hollered for good measure. And the incessant tugging…! Is he trying to dislocate my shoulder? Fuck I'm so tired…what must an exhausted Nobody do around here to get some quality sleep? Fill out a form? Get down on his knees and beg?

"All right, all right!" I bark. "You can sleep here, _but_!" I seize his front for attention. "No talking, and no physical contact of any kind. If you so much as _breathe_ on me or attempt to hug me again, I will hack off your fingers and feed them to you for breakfast tomorrow. Clear?"

"Clear!" He wriggles into the quilts, pulls them up to his chin and smacks his lips with satisfaction. His silver hair is fanned out on the pillow, his mouth slightly turned up in a smile and yeah, he looks ever so endearing but still, this little shit can't be serious…?

No one in their right mind would happily crawl into bed with me. But then I remember that the Superior never _was_ blessed with a right mind, so there goes my argument.

"What are we doing tomorrow?" He breaks the silence. He even has the nerve to tuck Stripy into the quilts too.

"I don't know. I need to get up in a few hours to write out mission briefs so that I _do_ know. I'd be grateful if you could shut the hell up and let me sleep." I roll onto my side and cover my exposed ear in an attempt to not listen, but you know how it's only natural to listen out to see if someone says any more? Especially if you know they're about to say what you don't want to hear?

Yeah, that's me. Waiting for an excuse to explode.

"You're always so _busy_. Work work work."

"Yeah, and whose fault is that?" I kick off the covers and thrash about in bed so that I don't end up hitting him (despite it being very tempting). "It's _your_ fault! Second-in-command is supposed to be a respectable position, but you've upended it to make it synonymous with Resident Dogsbody. Thank you _so_ much. You ruined my life when I was a Somebody; you just had to maintain that tradition when I became a Nobody too, didn't you? I ought to go on strike. Or say no to you once in a while."

"Hmm," Xemnas muses, and I can tell it's not in connection with my complaint, "can I do drawing tomorrow?"

"It's not like you do anything else," I grumble. "That's exactly what I'm getting at. You do fuck all, and that is what's reflected in your child form."

"I don't do fuck all," Xemnas cries.

"No? What do you do besides drawing? If you can call it that," I utter. "More like the vicious annihilation of an innocent piece of paper."

There's a pause. No doubt he's thinking about it, because it's certainly something he hasn't thought about before: What _does_ the Superior do?

"…I have friends," he decides to answer. I look over at him and pull a face, because a cow is smiling at me in his place.

"Can…can you move that? I feel like I'm having a conversation with that damn Stripy. What do you mean, friends?"

Xemnas pulls Stripy so that it rests on him. "_Secret_ friends," he clarifies. "I haven't told anyone until now. They talk to me."

I leap up in bed. "So you _are _schizophrenic! Xigbar owes me Munny." I sink back down when I remember Xigbar's current state. "Uh…you were saying?"

Xemnas pouts. "I said I have friends. More than Axel and more than Zexion. I know places in this Castle that no one else knows about."

He smiles in the dark, thrilled by just the thought. I come pretty close. Talk about a revelation. I mean, right now, child Xemnas is divulging all of adult Xemnas' secrets, things he has worked so hard to keep under wraps, those skeletons in his closet he expects us to turn a blind eye to. Why _should_ I work under and stay loyal to a leader who doesn't confide in or respect his subordinates?

I'm going exploit him while I can. It's the least he deserves.

"Sounds interesting. What friends?" I press. "Is that where you wander off to for hours a day, and it's why I can never find you? Some days, you just take off without explanation and leave me to work out – with little information or help, may I add – where you want the Organisation's focus. Are you telling me that all those occasions I was slaving away, you were off having a tea party with your imaginary friends?"

"…Yes?" Xemnas guesses. He probably can't remember those sorts of events at all. But if he _does_ recall wandering off to some secret location within these Castle walls, then he did exactly that that day he drank the revitalising shake. And on that day – his last day as an adult – he behaved normal (as normal as he can be, anyway) and had no problem lying to my face and deceiving me. The. Bastard.

"Maybe you could take me to this secret location tomorrow." I try to sound offhand, but who am I kidding? It doesn't matter what tone I adopt, this kid will fall for anything.

"Okay!" he says brightly. I start planning in my head, and the promise of finally catching up to the Superior and being able to diffuse whatever authority he has, is a sure fire way of falling asleep quick.

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_**A/N**: Sorry for the late update with this – I reached a bit of a dead end with this fic and my interest in it dwindled somewhat. But I have some ideas going for next chapter (she says) so hopefully the wait won't be so long this time. Thanks for reading and commenting on the previous chapter. As usual, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated – it does my motivation wonders XD_


	8. Dirty Little Secret

_**Disclaimer**__: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_**Warning**__: Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth). In addition, this chapter contains minor BbS spoilers regarding Xemnas' identity, but it's a bit blink and you'll miss it :)_

_**A/N:**__ First off, I am so so sorry for the lateness of this. I haven't updated since October, right before I did my NaNo. By way of apology for the wait, this chapter is slightly longer than usual! As ever, big thanks to the kind reviewers of this fic – you all motivate and inspire me. Enjoy!_

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**COOKING MAMA**

**8: Dirty Little Secret**

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Xaldin and I have a rare heart-to-heart-without-hearts the next morning, long before the kids wake up to wreak havoc on Friday.

Friday. Is that it?

"I've had it up to here. Fuck this negotiation to last until Monday, I want the Organisation back _right now_."

"I hear you," says Xaldin, "but apparently, Vexen needs time for the remedy to be completed. Monday can't come soon enough. This shambolic mishap isn't what I signed up for."

"Oh, it isn't what _you_ signed up for? What, you think _any_ of us actually wanted this? Because I sure as hell don't remember going up to the Superior and begging him to add a bit of spice to my miserable nonexistence. I was _happy_ being miserable." I slam down whatever's in my hand at the moment (a frying pan) and wheel round to face Number Three. "When all this gets resolved, I'm going to be very, _very_ angry with him."

Xaldin picks up four slices of toast and some butter squares. "You can't be angry."

I grit my teeth and silently agree. As a Nobody, I only feel the physical responses to emotions that would have otherwise been there. My hands shake and my face flushes red and every footstep is a heavy thud, but I don't really get angry. "Fine," I relent. "I will just ignore him for a week. And perhaps go on strike. That should hit him hard."

Xaldin looks nonplussed. "Isn't that just showing he got to you?"

"He _has_ got to me!" I smash eggs on the kitchen surface and hurl their insides at the frying pan. "Look at what he's _done_ to me, Xaldin! If we were to find another organisation with a similar hierarchy to ours, their second-in-command wouldn't be standing at a cooker in an apron, wondering what he can make out of eight eggs and what should he add extra so that his children get their recommended daily nutrition. Do you see my point? I've gone mad. Batshit crazy."

"No way," Xaldin draws out. "That's an unexpected turn in events. Who'd have seen that coming?" He picks up a bowl and packet of cereal and walks out the kitchen, and that's that.

"Bastard," I utter, returning to my cooking and pretending that the sticky yellow goo is Xaldin's brain. (As such, I make really nice whipped up scrambled eggs.)

"Good morning, Mama! Are you angry? You're shouting," says a voice that I don't want to be hearing right now. "Who are you upset with?"

"You," I bark. "Get out of the kitchen, I can't work."

But Xemnas and that damn Stripy – why the fuck did I buy him again? – just follow me around like a particularly revolting breed of shadow. "Why?" he complains. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing," I say through my teeth. "It's not _you_ you, it's the other you. Look, never mind. Forget I said anything. Basically, someone is screwing up my life and I can't do anything about it. Sit down at the dining table and wait for your breakfast."

Xemnas clambers onto the kitchen island's stool instead, grunting with the effort as though he's mountain climbing. "Have you talked to him?"

"Oh yeah, I've talked to him," I respond, dismissive, "but he has wonderfully selective hearing. Also, he's my boss, so I'm limited in what I can say in the first place."

"Hmm," Xemnas muses, swinging his tiny legs and resting his chin on Stripy in thought. He really has no idea, has he? "Oh, I know! You can threaten to quit!"

"Been there, done that. I just come crawling back afterwards, like a fucking needy yo-yo." I tip the scrambled eggs into a bowl and Xemnas stretches out a hand. "_Fork_!" I screech at him. He jumps and takes one from me obediently. "Anyway, as I was saying, a lot of the problem comes down to me and the way I am. I've been his good little subordinate for so long that I don't know how to be anything else."

"Why have you always been his good little sub-dinate?" Xemnas asks through a mouthful of egg.

"Because I was young and stupid, and thought it was a turbo start on a motorway to dominance. Apparently, I read the sign wrong and it's actually a one way suffocating mine cart track to the deep depths of subservience." I lean on the counter because god, this head is getting heavier and heavier to keep up. "On the one hand, you can blame my boss for taking advantage of my capability as a deputy; but then on the other, whose fault is it really for letting it happen?"

"Is your boss that horrible?" Xemnas says. He sounds so sad he might actually be feeling sorry for me. That's a first.

"Yeah, he's a nasty piece of work."

"Does he live here?" he asks next, chewing on his fork.

"Course he does, he built the damn place."

"Well then I'll go talk to him!" cries Xemnas. He's so keen that he wobbles on the stool and nearly tumbles off it. Stripy isn't so lucky. "Oh no, Stripy!"

"Here," I mutter, picking up the plushie on automatic. (On _automatic_. What the hell is happening to me.) "And don't worry about having a word with my boss. I'm sure it wouldn't be your first time in talking to people who aren't there, but ultimately it's a problem I have to deal with on my—" I trail off as a warm chord of remembrance hits me. Of course, last night!

"You know what, Xemnas? It's going to be fine. You _can_ help me in some way." I edge from the cooker back to the island, approaching him the way a poacher with a net would. "You said last night that you have a secret place you go to."

Just then, Axel and Zexion traipse in, with the latter carrying Lexaeus. "Morning Mama!" they chorus gratefully—nah, who am I kidding? They just ignore me and go straight to the dining room.

"Hey Saïx!" says Demyx. "Oh look, scrambled egg. Do we have juice in the fridge?" He wanders around me to look. I turn back to Xemnas.

"So anyway, this secret place of yours. Maybe you could show me where it is."

He just stares at me as if there is something on my face. (Well, something worse than a massive X anyway.) "…What secret place?"

What secret place.

_What secret place_.

"What? What do you mean, _what secret place_? The one you told me about yesterday! Come on, you said you go there to talk to your friends…! You said you know of places in this Castle that no one else does…!"

"I did?" Xemnas says blankly.

Demyx slams the fridge shut, humming. "Hey, Saïx. Let's get this breakfast on a roll. Lexaeus is screaming back there."

"One minute," I snap. "Xemnas, I mean it. No joking around – I don't have a sense of humour. You _told_ me you visit a secret location. It was only last night you said it…! Like, six hours ago!"

"Maybe you were dreaming?" Xemnas suggests.

"I don't dream, I have nightmares, of which you and Zexion are usually the stars. Answer me. Now, Xemnas!"

His blank look doesn't slide a millimetre. He shakes his head. "Mama, I don't know what you're talking about."

"All right, all right, fine. Just so you know, I fully forgive and accept you as a madman with too much time on his hands. I even forgive you for being schizophrenic and a bit of a pervert. But becoming an amnesiac whenever it's convenient? No. No, that's one step too far, and I won't ever forgive you for that."

**-x-**

I hate him.

I swear, if he wasn't armed with such a cute face, I would have killed him by now.

But no, the key to Xemnas' downfall is being guarded by Xemnas himself, and a pint sized four year old Xemnas to boot. If I can't even beat him when he's like that, how am I supposed to overthrow him when he's an adult?

I have a bit of a sulk while doing the washing up. Everyone else has gone to fuck up their missions further and I'm left with the cleanup. Thankfully, Axel's fallen asleep in the Grey Area and Vexen remains in the Castle lab with Zexion (who has gone to annoy him under the false claim that he's there to help). I don't think I would have lasted a minute longer with Axel's alphabet burps and Zexion complaining about 'eggs again' for breakfast and how high in cholesterol they are.

Just when I think all hope is lost and the basin of hot water is so tempting I want to stick my head in it and drown, someone tugs the hem of my apron.

"Mama, don't be upset," says Xemnas. "I had to lie."

"So you _do_ remember?" I wheel round angrily because I'm really not pleased at the moment. Right now, I'm _this_ far off from berserk.

"I couldn't tell you the secret when people were listening! It wouldn't be a secret any more!" Xemnas explains with wild arm gestures, and he looks as though he as about to add, "Duh!" at the end.

"Ah…right." Deep, deep breath, Saïx, because admittedly, the award for being the screw up goes to you this time. "…I understand now."

"So come on!" says Xemnas, beckoning me over with his hands in a move that would be perfect for the stage. He drags me by the hand and we begin a meandering journey (only because I can't walk properly when I'm yanked down like this) upstairs. We pass his office and then go left up another set of stairs to a long skyway that I'm very familiar with. That is, until Xemnas faces a part of the wall with nothing striking about it, and then slides up a tile to reveal a panel.

"What's the pass code?" I ask.

"Melon," Xemnas replies too happily, and then he cocks his head to the side. "I don't know why, though."

I steer him towards the new doorway that's just unveiled itself. "Don't try too hard to unravel the mystery that is you, I'm quite certain it's impossible."

Now we start heading downstairs, through a narrow offshoot of the skyway that is illuminated only by thin strips of lighting just above where the skirting board would have been. When the door slides shut behind us, it's pretty much pitch black. "Don't you get frightened, coming down here on your own?" I ask curiously.

"No," Xemnas responds, and he breaks into a run, "because I know it always comes out here!"

He pulls me into a large room which, embedded with motion sensors, lights up to confirm that yes, Xemnas has had a secret office all along.

There's a massive oak desk on the right hand side, complete with books and papers I can't wait to sink my claws into. They contain adult Xemnas' secret projects, the stuff he keeps hidden from his own organisation. There are several spare coats draped over the back of his chair and a pair of gloves chucked across the window seat, all boasting the disorder of a leader at luxury. However, on the left side of the room is a circular tea party of sorts, which I bloody well hope was brought here by child Xemnas.

To be honest with you, I do feel a bit uncomfortable standing in room meant only for the Superior, but I soon get over it. I let Xemnas occupy himself with that tea party and make a beeline for his desk.

"I don't know who works there," calls Xemnas from his spot. "Come over here, Mama, it's much more fun."

"Shut up for a minute," I grumble. I rifle through the papers, but they're nothing I haven't seen before. Copies of mission summaries and reports, that's all they are. The books are just ones he likes to read in his spare time. His drawers hold stationery, a comb, three empty notebooks and the occasional pack of biscuits. Where's the juicy stuff? The incriminating evidence?

I slump into his chair and sigh. Through my half-closed, completely-given-up eyes, I spot Xemnas sharing out some biscuits with a collection of plushies. This office is clearly where plushies are spawned, but I don't have enough strength in me to take it out. I don't even have enough strength to keep my head up. My chin hits the edge of the desk as I slump forwards and sink into depression, because I've come all this way only to be let down.

"Oh Mama," says Xemnas in consolation, getting up and running to the desk. "What's the matter? Don't you like the secret base? Sit with me, we can all eat together!"

I give the tea party with plushies a despairing look. "Those are your friends?"

"Yep!"

"And they talk to you?"

"Yep!"

I straighten up, raking my hair. "See, that doesn't make sense. Everything you do is based on everything you did before you drank the shake. So why are you hearing voices and mucking around in this room?" I get up and pace the length of the office. It's a little unnerving that Xemnas follows in my wake, and I swear that Stripy is surveying me over the rim of his teacup. "There has to be something significant. Whose voices does he hear? Why bother with a secret office if he has nothing to hide?"

"Biscuit?" Xemnas offers, and I take one absently. "What were you trying to find?"

I sink into the window seat, nudging the gloves aside. "I really don't know. Maybe a part of me was half-expecting it to be an easy ride and I'd discover a diary that'd tell me everything I need to know. Well, whatever, let's get out of here."

"But we've only just arrived!" Xemnas slumps at his mini table – I _knew_ he was going to do that – and begins to hand out plates to his plushies. I find it all a bit sad that he counts this as socialising, and I wonder if it's a reflection of the real Xemnas. I mean, he doesn't have anyone except for me.

Scratch that, he doesn't have anyone.

"Stripy takes up a lot of room, but if we all shuffle along, there's space at the table for you too." Xemnas waves me over.

Oh, who am I kidding. Honestly. Of course he's got me.

I sit between him and a ten inch giraffe plushie, and with my back turned to the Desk of No Rewards, I feel a little bit better. Xemnas gives me more biscuits and starts a chat with Stripy, and I twirl a plastic spoon around my fingers and attempt to decide who at this table is the most insane.

Then, something incredible happens. It's almost as though after all this time, a divine power has just noticed I'm in dire need of mercy.

"Mama," says Xemnas. "You know you were talking about a diary?"

"Yeah, what about it? Of course there isn't a diary here. My boss isn't so stupid he'd write out all his secrets."

"Well, there is something like a journal in that storage bit under the window seat," says Xemnas. I let my biscuit fall from my mouth and it clatters onto the plastic plate. "Shall I go get it?"

"N…Nah, you're good." I get up in a daze and amble to the window seat. Sure enough, when I hook my fingers round the cushioned edge, the whole seat lifts on a hinge to reveal a compartment. I move aside several cushions and blankets (he naps here too, I realise) and lodged in the corner is a thick bound book. The whole compartment smells of that woody, rainy scent I attribute to the adult Xemnas.

"I feel like I'm supposed to guard it," says Xemnas, clambering onto the window seat once I shut it. "But I don't mind you reading the book."

I give the journal a wary once over. Should I take that as a compliment from child Xemnas, who so adores Mama? Or is that a hint of adult Xemnas, who is happy to let his secrets go to his right hand man?

I open the journal, and it's not too interesting. Adult Xemnas clearly likes sketching, and admittedly, he's not half bad at it. There are quick yet detailed pictures of random objects, like lamp brackets, the curve of a pond, elaborate windowpane designs and the tip of a mountain. At first, I think it's all unrelated and Xemnas must be a very bored man, until I turn more pages and find these pieces locking together to form a bigger picture. He's now sketched a castle embedded in cloudy hills, with gold chains streaking across the uncoloured sky and it's all pretty impressive, except _I don't know what it means._

Maybe he had always wanted to be an architect, not a scientist. Maybe he's planning a second base for the Organisation. Maybe he's thinking of redecorating _this_ Castle. I'd approve of that, especially the pond. Think how many problems can be solved with a _pond_.

"This one is my favourite," Xemnas enthuses, and he flicks a few pages ahead where there's a sketch of an ornate five-pointed flower (or a starfish – his art is a bit abstract).

"Huh," is all I say.

Two thirds of the way into his journal, Xemnas introduces blocks of text, and that's where my discomfort becomes a little harder to ignore.

"Isn't his handwriting nice?" child Xemnas sighs, apparently envious of himself. "Look, he's written about you!"

He jabs a finger, and sure enough, the word _Saïx_ jumps out at me. And then there's another one. _Saïx_. And across the page, more _Saïx_.

_Were it not for my faultless second-in-command, Saïx, I surely would have gone mad by now._

"Positively deluded," I grumble. "And he doesn't mind putting other people's sanity at risk, does he? What a fuckwit."

_The pains of recollection subside when Saïx is near. He appears to instil some of his calm into my subconscious, and the memories relent in their battle to consume my very essence._

What _is_ he prattling on about?

_It might be the blue hair. It's familiar, as though I have seen it before, as though it has once been natural for me to see that cobalt streak out the corner of my eye, inches within my grasp and yet impossibly far. I have thought about reaching out, but something stops me every time._

Okay, that's just creepy. Now I'm going to have to dye my hair.

_Of course, as a Nobody, I am already cursed with the hollow feeling of incompletion, yet the gradual revival of my memory goes beyond this, forcing me to accept and understand that there are answers right in front of me that I'll never see. I will never discover who I really am, why I think up places that feel real but aren't, how I hear voices in an empty body that is myself and my Castle. Logically speaking,_

"All right, that's enough. A madman using the word 'logically'. That's where I draw the line." I go to shut this damn book, but my body seizes up in protest. I don't want to read more but god, do I _want _to.

_Logically speaking, _I continue reading, _such incessant frustrations would be the cause of my undoing. I am, however, grounded and protected – by Saïx. When he is present, I acquire an identity I am finally comfortable with – a position as the respected leader of my Organisation, with duties and attributes to match. I long to devise a scheme that will let me keep him as close as possible with a guarantee he will not leave – in death or betrayal. On some occasions, usually when he is too far or too close, I utterly desire him._

_Most occasions, then._

…Ping.

What was that you ask? Oh, only the final thread that grasped the concept of my sanity.

"Mama, you look ill."

"…Um, Xemnas?" I test my voice. It's a tad higher in pitch. "…Do me two favours?"

"But of course!"

"One, take this…this…journal thing out of my hands. I think I've frozen up. Second, go and fetch a plastic spoon from that tea party. I need to gouge out my eyes."

**-x-**

"So anyway," Demyx ploughs on, trying to dig himself out of his self-dug hole. "The point I'm trying to make here is that I might not be completely innocent as such, but I'm not completely guilty either. Luxord is a cheater! He tricked me into playing more card games and getting us into trouble and now he's trying to make you all hate me."

"Demyx, I don't need Luxord's help in order to find an excuse to hate you. The revitalising shake is reason enough. By the way, you can't _ever_ redeem yourself from that." I shuffle my handmade cards and sit on the floor between the coffee table and the sofa. "Now if you excuse me, I'm having a serious discussion with Lexaeus."

"Mama's gone loopy," says Axel, rolling a football along his arms and shoulders. "I don't even get told off for doing this!" And he kicks the ball into one of the floor length windows. ("You shouldn't do that!" Xemnas screams, marching over to give Axel a push.)

"Yeah, I think finally Mama's lost it because of the stress," Demyx says, nodding his head like a wise man. "It's difficult being in charge. Always your neck on the line and the weight on your shoulders."

"This result is expected," Zexion says from behind his cookbook. "Second-in-command requires a certain level of calibre. More often than not, people discover they're too inept and unqualified for such a position and eventually beg to be removed of their responsibilities, succumbing to cowardice and general uselessness over any hint of self-preservation."

"Look, while you have a point, you're being extremely annoying about it," grumbles Xaldin from behind a mountain of (my) paperwork. "Some of us are trying to wade through a backlog of three months on an empty stomach."

You're probably wondering where I am in all this commotion. I mean, for starters, I'm getting verbally shredded by Zexion and besides Xaldin, no one is actually doing any work. But I don't mind. I really don't mind.

You see, they all hate me.

They're not in love with me.

"All right, Lexaeus, concentrate now," I say in our little corner of the Grey Area, now away from the others. "If I discover my boss fancies me, I should…" I hold up my first card, on which I have drawn a picture of myself with bright red cheeks. "_Be flattered_."

Lexaeus rocks a little, cross legged, and then he shakes his head. I hold up card two – a picture of me being showered by gifts from Xemnas. "_Use and abuse the privilege_."

Lexaeus stares at me, deadpan. "Nah, too dangerous, I don't know what I'm going to get," I agree. "All right, how about this one?" I hold up the third card (depicting me with a clipboard and angry face). "_Pretend I am unaware and carry on with my job_."

Lexaeus shakes his head again. "Ab nee bel gluh," he answers seriously.

"Good point. It's impossible to feign ignorance. Which leaves this one." Card four is a picture of me in motion, with my arms up in the air and my face twisted to represent a bloodcurdling scream. "_Run for my life_."

"Bleh bleh bleh!" Lexaeus scrunches up his face, points and bursts into a peal of giggles, before rolling onto the floor and chewing up the card.

"I thought as much."

**-x-**

From under his hood, Xemnas stares up at me in a mix of puzzlement and excitement. "Where's this, Mama?" he asks. "I thought it was my bedtime?"

"It is, but Mama's going to drink lots of alcohol in Twilight Town first in an attempt to repress some memories."

Since Twilight Town is a world lodged in a perpetual sunset, there isn't nightlife as such, but the pubs are quick to locate. Xemnas (with fucking Stripy) follows in my wake – only coming along because he doesn't want to go to sleep and I can't shake him off – and we enter a crowded beer garden.

Of course, being the responsible second-in-command, I'm not going to drink myself into a stupor, not when I have things to do, people to shout at and a boss to be dreadfully on guard around.

…And of course, neither am I going to run away. The _great_ thing about being second-in-command is that your fight or flight instinct gets squashed and moulded into a permanent state of docility and submission. Sticking my head into a beer keg is the closest I can get now to running away.

"Hey there, lady," says someone, shaking a mug at me.

"Piss off," I reply absently. I've forgotten to take my fucking apron off again, haven't I?

"Oh, but he likes you!" Xemnas hisses up at me. He might even be flattered on my behalf.

"Yeah, more people than I'd like." I bark an order for some beer and juice, before seizing them by their curling handles and making for the garden.

"Oh my god!" a woman suddenly squeals. She staggers over. "How cute are you? You're the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen!"

No, she's not talking to me. Apparently, I can't catch the eye of the opposite sex at all. Instead, she swoops down on Xemnas and gives him a suffocating hug. "You are the cutest baby I have ever seen. I mean, look at these chubby cheeks! And this smile, eh?"

"Yeah, thank you," I bark, impatient. "Let us through."

"He's going to grow up to be quite the charmer," the woman exclaims, falling against a counter to succumb to her palpitations. "He's going to grow up into a great, handsome man—"

"I'll bring him back to you when he grows up," I grumble, "you can keep him."

I push open the back door with a shoulder, glad to escape the stuffiness of the pub. I collapse onto an elaborate iron bench and, to avoid a repeat of the disaster in Agrabah, I pull Xemnas and Stripy to sit on my lap.

"Mama, I can see a train," Xemnas exclaims, and his eyes sparkle in the sunset and bloody hell, he looks frighteningly endearing.

"Shut up and drink your juice, I'm busy." I chug down my beer and try to think happy, non-disturbing thoughts. Talk about scraping the barrel.

When all this is over, I realise, I'm never going to look at the Superior in the same way again.

He fancies me.

He bangs on about only being able to feel emotion through our memories, but there he is, exercising the emotion of creepy obsession like a right talented hypocrite.

"Here." As soon as I set down my empty mug, another one takes its place, brimming with frothy beer. "There's no problem that can't be forgotten with a drink."

"Wanna bet?" I mutter, but I say thanks anyway. Then, I glance up to see who I'm talking to. It had better not be another guy hitting on me. Well, it's a guy, at the very least, and he's dressed casual yet classy. His shirt is loosely tucked into jeans, the sleeves slightly flared as they go cufflink-less in the light wind. He sports a short, blonde haircut and a neatly trimmed beard.

"However, drinking yourself silly isn't perhaps a sight you want to be subjecting your child to. He is yours?" he confirms.

"Kind of. Depends how you look at it. Listen uh…whatever you're called." I hold Xemnas tighter as he slurps on his apple juice. "Is there any reason for this small talk? I don't know who you are and have no inclination to find out. Don't you dare be hitting on me."

"An interesting turn in tactics," remarks the blond. "Recruitment by way of feigned nonchalance. The Organisation really is running out of ideas."

I snap up from my mug. "Excuse me?"

"Your coats rather give it away. Incidentally, nice apron." He sits down on the bench next to me, and Xemnas gives a shy wave from behind his glass (and I really wish he wouldn't). The blond takes out a pen and scribbles on a bar receipt. I take it to read:

_750905_

"…That better not be your phone number," I say warily. He laughs, shaking his head.

"That, my friend, is your debt." He leans back on the bench. "Don't worry, it includes the pint I just bought you."

What the…?

I stare at him, scrutinising every aspect of him. He doesn't look smug or arrogant, just…ugh, I don't know, too laidback and unconcerned that it's blatant he doesn't give a shit about anything. Which pretty much reveals to me who he is.

Oh shit, basically.

"Who are you?" asks Xemnas, his eyes wide with interest. "You talk funny!"

"I'm Rould, or perhaps I'm Luxord to you. You must be…"

"Xemnas! A-and this is Stripy."

"Pleasure," says Luxord, and it just gets more and more awkward by the minute as he shakes hands with Xemnas and, without batting an eyelid, Stripy afterwards. "And you," he adds with a crooked, gracious smile. "That you have enough stress and time to come to Twilight Town and her healing beverages must make you the Organisation's leader."

We shake hands. "Saïx," I supply, "but I'm second-in-command, not the leader. Our leader is currently away."

"A visit from the right hand man is an honour enough," Luxord replies. "Where is your leader?"

Xemnas finishes off his apple juice, hiccups and swivels on me to curl up and sleep.

I blame the drink. Or maybe subconsciously, I am screaming for someone to help me out of this torture. Either way, the words just slip out.

"…He's on my lap."

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks for reading and apologies once again for the lateness. I have been getting into writing other fics but I am also running low on ideas for this one. (If you have any other ideas for Saix and his brood, do let me know!) Thanks again for your support, and like usual, comments and feedback do wonders for picking this fic up off the ground. Til next time!_


	9. Who's Your Daddy

_**Disclaimer**__: Characters are copyright to Square Enix, not me._

_**Warning**__: Rated T for language (Saïx has a potty mouth)._

_**A/N: **Happy new year, everyone!Okay...wow, late update is reeeally late. Apologies for the wait - I'm having a hard time focusing on one story when I have at least five on the go :S Enjoy this update and thank you so much to the lovely people who have left me reviews for this fic over the last year. It still astounds me how well received this story is. Thank you for your support!_

* * *

**COOKING MAMA**

**9: Who's Your Daddy**

* * *

I don't think I've ever mentioned it before, but holy fuck, Luxord is the most handsome guy I've ever seen.

No really, he is.

What?

Just because I'm a Nobody, it doesn't mean I can't have appreciation for beauty when I see it. He's cool and optimistic, composed and trim (annoyingly so when put against my dishevelled hair and stained apron), he's got these sparkly blue eyes and he actually _listens_ to me when I talk. I haven't been acquainted with that general conception of courtesy for a while now, and if that isn't a turn on I don't know what is, and shit, I think I might be drunk.

**-x-**

I stagger out of the cubicle with a smidgen more grace than a frazzled sailor on a sinking ship. "Ugh…oh god…"

"Better?" Luxord hands over a glass of water.

"Yeah. I just…need to look at something which isn't a toilet bowl or the bottom of a beer mug." I collapse against the hardwood wall of the tavern's restroom, gripping the sink for support. "These problems aren't going away, Luxord. I can still remember those four brats."

"Yes, it only works if you agree to remain in a permanent state of drunken stupor," Luxord concedes. "You will, essentially, still have your children. Where's Xemnas?"

I snap my head up so quick my eyes and brain rattle out of place, I swear. "No, no, we have to keep an eye on him, I can't have a repeat of Agrabah—Xemnas! Answer me now!"

A silvery head pops out from under the sink. "I'm here, Mama. You look so ill."

"I'm fine," I slur unconvincingly. "I just want it to be Monday."

"Home might be best for both of you," says Luxord, not unkindly. He bends over, hand outstretched in an amicable gesture to pull up Xemnas. I admire his ear piercings and steady gaze of patience and unruffled composure. Seriously, that is some gaze—ugh, snap out of it, Saix.

"I'm not going home yet. I know what you're trying to do, Luxord – you're trying to fob me off so that you can go back to squishing people in playing cards. I'm meant to do something to you." I snap my fingers for the thought to come to me. "Oh yeah! I'm supposed to _recruit_ you."

Luxord gives a dry laugh. "I'm a fair man, Saix. I'll give you a sporting chance and allow you to become sober first." He lifts Xemnas up into his (strong, lean) arms and offers a (dazzling) smile. "Let's take you to the park then, Xemnas. It's just up the road."

Yeah, the park is 'just up the road', but it's no easy trip when my head isn't screwed on straight. I stagger along with Stripy, and I wish for nothing more than to hurl, but I can't look bad in front of Luxord, can I—

"Saix, sit here." I get pushed onto a hard bench and the red sky goes in circles round my head.

"I want to play on the swings," exclaims Xemnas. He snatches Stripy away from me and runs off.

"Don't worry, I'm keeping a close eye on him," Luxord says. "Relax here for now. Why not tell me what exactly is going on?"

"Which part? Why I'm wearing a stripy green and yellow apron, why I owe you so much money, or why my boss is a four year old running around with a cuddly doll named Stripy?"

"Whatever you're comfortable with," he replies. He rests his elbows on his knees. "The wearisome struggle that is life can be so much more bearable when you have a friend with whom to share your problems. We all at some point feel victimised and helpless, but things are never as bad as they seem."

"Pass me your rose-tinted glasses, I want to wear them." I scowl and kick out my legs in a huff, but I contemplate the offer regardless. I mean, I've been morally screwed over these last few days but who knows? Maybe this is the tearing of the finish line ribbon. As in, "Congratulations, Saïx, you've put up with five days of torture, here's Luxord as your reward!"

…Phwoar. When put that way, I'm definitely having the last laugh.

"It's Demyx's fault," I accuse, "and then everyone had a hand in making it worse because it's great entertainment watching me suffer. It's really not fair, you know! I practically _run_ the Organisation, and now it's turned into a loony crèche because four members drank shakes, resulting in an allergic reaction of them becoming kids, and I thought I was handling it really well, but it turns out I had no chance in the first place."

"The skills of being an evil Organisation's deputy didn't transfer so well to parenting, you mean," Luxord remarks.

"Exactly. Someone should have told me that sooner. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Not only do I have an Organisation to somehow run with four children making my life hell, I also have to manage four extremely unhelpful adults – one of whom has been squashed into a card, thank you _so_ much – and also figure out how to eventually talk the Superior out of recruiting Liam the Agrabah creep and oh yeah, I owe you over seven hundred thousand Munny."

Luxord blinks, and by now, it's clear he's the complete opposite of me. Nothing seems to faze him, not even the level of distress he's caused. He rubs the back of his head, and that's about all the effect I have on him. "Well," he says after a moment, "I understand now why you resorted to the drink."

We fall into a short silence, which is only punctured by Xemnas' nonsensical jabbering as he sits on a swing with Stripy.

"…There's got to be some way of reducing that debt," I try. "Demyx didn't know what he was doing when he gambled away our money, he's as thick as a plank. Can't you let the debt drop?"

"That would go against the rules of competition upon which we both agreed. I'm sure you can scrabble payment from somewhere. Alternatively, you can try a few games of luck and see if you can win it back."

I burst out laughing by reflex. I don't know if you've ever heard a Nobody laugh, but it never sounds particularly pretty. "Really? Try _my _luck?"

Luxord smiles. I try not to stare too long. "Yes, perhaps someone such as yourself should refrain from games that require good fortune. You're incredibly ill-fated."

"No shit."

"However, today may prove to be unusually lucky for you. While I cannot agree to cancelling your debt, I can offer to lift Xigbar's curse and revert him to his normal form. Having heard your situation, you are in dire need of an extra pair of hands."

Something inside me clicks. "Exactly," I breathe.

Let's just get this straight. I'm not exactly a Nobody for negotiating. You know, I'm more a fan of demanding until I'm red in the face, so I'm relatively inexperienced when it comes to haggling and somehow staying respectable at the same time. Couple that with my drunkenness, and you know I'm going to come out with some choice sentences which would promptly kill me from embarrassment, if I had capacity for such an emotion.

I shuffle on that park bench, sitting up straighter and angling myself to face Luxord. "Tell you what," I begin (read: slur). "Xigbar's not really _that _important. I don't know who the bastard thinks he's kidding, he's totally expendable. Forget about fixing him for now. If you think I need help, _you _come along instead. _You_ can be the extra pair of hands."

"You mean I can have a butcher's, see what I'm missing out on and wonder why I haven't joined the Organisation sooner?" Luxord settles back in the bench.

"Exactly," I say again. "It's a brilliant idea. I mean, you're probably ten times smarter than Xigbar, at least ten times hotter than him, you're the best thing I've seen all week."

He doesn't bat an eyelid. "I wouldn't place all bets on me if I were you. I'm merely a passerby who can't help but sense an echo of derisive pity and amusement every time he looks at you. You know, I used to live a life just like yours. Not plagued with children, mind you, just incredibly unlucky." He stretches an arm over the back of the bench. Proximity and personal space has always been an issue with me, but this one time, I don't seem to mind.

"I tried so hard to fit in, to go by the book and be what's 'good'. But things meant to set the course straight turned out to be catalysts to further unhappiness; people I was supposed to be able to trust were in fact the ones I needed to hide from. When you feel the whole world is out to get you, you find yourself on the brink of madness. It eats you up, consumes you, melds you into a person who wants nothing but his own destruction."

He shrugs, as though we're discussing something trivial like the weather. "I surmise, however, that if a Nobody ever receives similar bad luck, it renders him into a gibbering drunk with a frayed apron and beer stains on his cheek."

I try to wipe my face but I end up poking myself in the eye instead. "Does it bother you?"

"Your dishevelled look? Not at all. If anything, it's remarkably down-to-earth and approachable."

"I meant being a Nobody, I wasn't talking about me—really?" I perk up for the first time in years. "No one's ever pegged me as approachable. Even _I _wouldn't approach myself."

"Sure," enthuses Luxord. "It makes a change from your friend Xaldin threatening to beat me into joining the Organisation, not to mention Xigbar the resident sycophant and Demyx, whose mission notes written verbatim on his hand still didn't help him understand what he was supposed to be doing. You seem to be the first honest member."

I bask in that compliment for a few moments, and then say, "Well, since I'm so honest, take it from me that joining the Organisation is the best thing you'll ever do."

"Seriously?" answers Luxord. His gaze detracts from me as Xemnas bounds over like a puppy returning a ball. "Look at what the Organisation has done to you. I'm not subjecting myself to that."

"No one gets treated worse at the Organisation than me, don't worry," I reply. "You'll be treated well and I'm sure the Superior – once he's stopped fooling around as a kid on a sugar high – will recognise your invaluable assets as the master of time. I don't understand why you wouldn't join an evil Organisation populated by similar folk to you. You get to kill people and monsters as a pastime, get paid monthly, you get three meals a day _and_ a complementary pass to the hydrotherapy spa in Agrabah. Don't ask me if it's any good because I haven't had the time to go; I've been too busy running this godforsaken madhouse."

Xemnas starts to walk circles around the park bench, mumbling to Stripy. He really isn't doing much for my cause, but Luxord seems to do a good job in not getting distracted.

"Oh Saix," he says finally, with the heaviness of a bartender listening to an entire pub's woes. "You are such a poor sod, how can I ignore it?"

**-x-**

On Saturday morning, Xaldin surveys the scene with a permanently insulted expression etched on his face. Luxord stands around in the dining room with his hands behind his back, as though he's at an art gallery and the sound of bickering children upstairs is simply a study on postmodernism and not my real and sad life.

"So you got him to join temporarily," Xaldin says of him.

"I have a way with words," I explain, serving up warm croissants with butter and jam.

"Yeah, it seems you do missions better than everyone else." Xaldin takes a chunk out of his croissant, as if he's ripping flesh out a leg. "Though if anyone has a way with words, it's me, and Luxord didn't budge an inch the three times I confronted him. What the hell did you tell him?"

"I don't really remember, I was drunk."

"For fuck's sake, Saix," he utters to the ceiling, "you must remember something."

"Not a single word. I was really drunk." I toss him a napkin. "Stop talking or you're going to get jam down your front."

He scowls, skulks into the dining room and that's that.

My head might have gone through a blender overnight before being patched up like papier mache on a balloon. I might have thrown up more than I actually ingested and I might now be experiencing the terrible hangover of regret, but I'm not quite incapacitated enough to admit I banked on Luxord's pity to get him in.

**-x-**

Luxord invokes a series of differing reactions when the kids eventually stop fighting and come downstairs for breakfast. Save for Lexaeus, who remains silent and unamused on my hip, they're pretty vocal.

"Wow, you're so cool and so tall! Look at those earrings!" Axel exclaims, doing circles round him like a malfunctioning remote control car and promptly forgetting that I had my ears pierced ages ago. "Are you here to stay?"

"Obviously not," says Zexion, "given that like me, he isn't wearing the Coat of Conformity. Good choice, by the way. Perhaps you're from social services? I've submitted dozens of complaints but your answering receptionist is a phone message black hole."

"He's my friend, everyone!" Xemnas announces, as though that clarifies everything as opposed to dumbfounding everyone even more. "Yesterday, we went to the park together _and_ he got me apple juice."

"Actually, I'm just a friendly debt collector here on Saix's request." Luxord occupies adult Xemnas' spot at the head of the table, waving a newspaper open. "Now pardon me for pointing this out so soon, Axel, but manners dictate we do not rest our elbows on the table at any time."

Axel shrugs, still propping up his chin with a hand. "Nah, I like my elbows where they are."

"It wasn't open for discussion," says Luxord. He glances at Axel's cereal bowl, snaps his fingers and squashes it into a playing card. "I advise you be very careful with how you speak to your elders, son, or your attempts to eat may very well fall a little _flat_."

Axel stares at his paper breakfast, while Xemnas looks torn between laughing and fearing for his own breakfast's safety. (He slowly moves his elbows off the table.) Zexion's facial muscles run through a selection of nasty expressions before he settles for the default that is contempt.

"Oh, don't be afraid of me," Luxord says easily, returning Axel's breakfast back to normal once the guilty elbows slide off the table. "I'm certain you're all good children who require little correction. I like courtesy, decency and manners. Assuming you do too, we're going to get along just fine."

"Isn't he brilliant?" I hiss to Lexaeus (although shamefully, Vexen overhears this as he passes the kitchen). "I should have recruited him a long time ago."

I reflect on this refined godsend while washing up, and I'm not just admiring his parenting tactics either.

Then, I remember said godsend costs nearly eight hundred thousand Munny. Deciding this is highest on my list of priorities, I palm the kids off on Demyx and Luxord, and then pull Xaldin aside so that we can open the Organisation's finance system together. Seriously, when you're heavily in debt and know you can't cover your arse, you need moral support when confronting it, even when a Nobody.

"We've got just under one and a half million Munny," Xaldin reads. "How much do we owe him?"

"Eight hundred grand." I slump into my seat and start to fill out cells. "But month end is coming up, and our combined wages knock about ninety thousand off the total, plus there's the Moogle's extortionate commission, dry cleaning bill and food bill, not to mention the automatic payments to cover Ansem's household bills. We'll have money left, but not enough to keep up the grandiose meals and central heating."

"Write off the kid Nobodies' wages, that should teach them to drink revitalising shakes," Xaldin suggests.

"I can't, not without Xemnas' approval. In any case, it doesn't make us any less in the red. I can't go up to Luxord and tell him the Organisation can't clear the debt in one go. It reflects badly on us and it's embarrassing."

Xaldin cracks his knuckles absently. He eyes the computer screen, wondering like me if there is any better way of painting 'fuck you' than a maze of negative numbers. "I thought the Organisation sacrificed all manner of self-preservation when its Superior danced round Twilight Town with a stuffed cow and the second-in-command came back trashed."

"Good point. We'll clear the debt then, but we _have_ to bounce back from that, and I mean instantaneously. I'm going to reassign missions to be money-centric." I wheel over to my tray of mission notes and start amending. "I usually prefer for Ansem's rerouted money to reach us, but if Luxord doesn't get his debt settled soon, he's going to start turning more than Axel's breakfast into playing cards."

"Leave the money making to me." Xaldin snatches up his mission brief, although he doesn't bother reading it. "I'll do some black market bartering in Agrabah today and see if I can pull up results."

"Good, but don't draw attention to yourself because Liam frequents Agrabah and I'm still undecided what to do with him."

Xaldin portals away and I sink back in my chair. Lexaeus is chewing part of my coat chain, and as I pry his sticky gums away from me, I think back on the days that made sense, where my day didn't consist of hollering for order and cleaning up after everyone.

Oh, what the hell. My life hasn't changed at all.

**-x-**

"All right, everyone. Here are your missions for today, come and get them." I take up my usual spot in the Grey Area. "Demyx, you're in Atlantica today. Go busking and see if you can charm the residents into donating lots of money. That's all he's good for," I add in an undertone to Luxord. "Xemnas, you're with me."

"Yes!" Xemnas hisses.

"Zexion, you're assisting Vexen with his research."

"Oh yes, with his work on sunlight allergies and its slim chance of actually being relevant to us. You do realise I actually help little, and in fact spend my time deliberately mislabelling his samples?" Zexion folds his arms, waiting for a reaction.

"Well, that's Vexen's problem, not mine."

"I prefer him." Zexion jabs a finger at Luxord, and I think to myself he's not the only one. "He actually has some semblance of sense in this insane asylum."

"That's the first time Zexion's ever taken to anyone, you should feel honoured, Luxord," I remark. "Fine, I'll switch your mission with Axel. Axel can assist Vexen, although I imagine he's going to do far more damage than mislabelling. Oh well. Vexen's already in his lab, Axel, so off you trot."

"Can't I stay here as well?" Axel whinges. "Please, Mama? Vexen scares me."

Why does it always end up like this? No matter how I plan it, the kids seem to boomerang their way back to cause me more pain and agro. Funny thing is though, do I put up a fight? Of course not. From an intelligent standpoint, Vexen will be too engrossed in his experiments to notice some kid tossing a lit match in a gas jar; Xaldin is stab-happy and liable to kill any of his charges, of which there is a one in four chance of it being the Superior; and Demyx, naturally, couldn't point to his own nose even if he had a mirror and neon signs.

So, it's back to Mama Saix. This time round, I'm not too bothered because most of the potential damage has already been administered by way of a colossal hangover, not to mention I stand a better chance with Luxord around – even if he is here for his own amusement.

"Today's task is to find as many coins as possible in the world of Olympus," Zexion reads off Xemnas' mission brief, taking extra care to sound as contemptuous as possible. "How old do you think we are? Do you really think we're going to be entertained by something as ridiculously childish as a treasure hunt?"

"…Going by Xemnas and Axel's faces, yes," I answer flatly. "You're the weird one, Zexion. Go figure."

Xemnas starts to stomp his feet repeatedly, biting his knuckles. "That sounds so exciting! Do we get a prize if we get the most coins?"

"Why the hell not," I answer absently. "Here are the rules, though. No running off, no fighting and no chakrams, you hear me?"

We portal to the Coliseum. The sun's rays beat down on us, but it's not as scorching as Agrabah weather. Still, the kids (save for the obvious) lift up their coat hoods and run into the stands. While they're distracted, I start scribbling out a cheque on my clipboard.

"Treasure hunting?" Luxord remarks, not too rudely, just with the air of one wondering if he's suddenly changed planets or something.

"It's to keep them occupied, plus it was the only legal thing I could think of that they could do to make money. The Coliseum's a site for games and tournaments. It's currently out of action until the weekend, so all the leftovers from past events are still around. The people here don't know what pockets are. They clutch money in their hands, and end up losing it when they're caught up in the games. Here you go," I finish coolly, as if I'm not at all bothered by signing away more than half of the Organisation's savings.

"Wonderful, thank you." When Luxord takes the cheque, I seem to have a problem letting go of it. "This settles our debt. I hope I haven't caused any financial distress."

"Pfft," I say, "yeah right."

I sit down on one of the curving stone seats, elbows to my knees. In that short space of time, Axel has managed to coat himself in an admirable amount of powdery earth in a fierce search for coins, as if he has just been doing vigorous exercise in a concentrated sandstorm rather than crawling under seats. Xemnas peers over the seats tentatively and retrieves a coin. Trust me, it's really awkward when he wipes the grime off it and eagerly shows it off to the invisible person next to him. Luxord's eyebrows lift.

"He's crazy," I explain lamely.

"Yes," says Luxord. He glances between the fiercely competitive Axel and cloud cuckoo land Xemnas. "Isn't it interesting how allergies can affect people?"

"No, seriously, it's not the allergy's fault. That madness is like the nucleus of who he is." I tear my gaze from Luxord for just a moment, surveying Lexaeus. The little guy's slapping his fat fists against the stone leg of the seat I'm on. Lexaeus seems delighted he's found something more solid than him that can actually put up a fight. Zexion pinches the space on the other side of Luxord and to my great annoyance, he starts talking to him as well.

"That's a pretty advanced book," Luxord remarks, daring to turn his back on me.

"I was previously reading one as a study on sunlight allergies, the introduction of which proved Vexen's career – which is effectively his entire existence – as laughable and anything but science. Now that I've picked this from the library, it disconnects me from that man."

"Who exactly is Vexen?" Luxord asks me, but it's Zexion who replies. According to him, I know jack shit about the Organisation I run.

"He's the cult's hermit. He stays locked up in his laboratory and tries to feign intelligence by dotting the shelves with random samples and polluting his findings reports with as many long words as possible." Zexion scowls and resumes reading his book. When he catches me trying to sneak a peek at it, he says for my benefit, "Occam's Razor," before shutting me out the conversation completely as he engages Luxord in some difficult philosophical talk.

It's a good job Lexaeus is around. I pretend to be too occupied in watching over him to ever contribute to the discussion at hand (seriously, _whose_ razor?). Lexaeus is reasonably cooperative, beating a rhythm against the stone leg and gurgling at the flat sound each hit emits, until he realises there are funnier sounds when he starts thwacking my shin instead.

"Ouch!" I hiss at him. I lift him up into my lap (nearly breaking my back while doing so) and take hold of his wicked fists before they start punching my face. Thankfully, all that wall punching has exhausted him, and Lexaeus quickly falls asleep. Xemnas and Axel are comparing the number of coins they've collected. Even from here, I can tell they've barely found ten Munny between them. Though it's not going to contribute at all to the Organisation's financial recovery, the good thing is that the treasure hunt has, at last, led me to discover something that can keep Xemnas and Axel quiet _and_ civil.

In the fleeting moment of calm, where all children are occupied with hunting, sleeping or reading about razors, I turn to Luxord without even a shadow of shame. "Is it bad that I still find you painfully attractive, even though I'm sober?"

* * *

_**A/N:** Again, apologies for the overdue update. Hope you enjoyed it! Any comments or feedback will be gratefully received :)_


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